Behind Green Eyes
by proud-slasher
Summary: The war was over, one had died while the other survived, transition into a normal life was never going to be easy for Harry, but maybe an unexpected friendship could help Harry deal with his grief.
1. Chapter 1 - Why does my heart cry?

**Chapter 1: Why does my heart cry?**

**[The war was over, one had died while the other survived, transition into a normal life was never going to be easy for Harry, but maybe an unexpected friendship could help Harry deal with his grief.]**

The battlements blazed bright, as flames engulfed the castle. Smoke emitted from Hogwarts' many turrets and flashes of red and green light could be seen from inside the broken windows.

From the inferno, dark obscure shapes could be seen crawling from the ruins. The order could no longer be identified, as death eaters began to flee the wreckage, dashing to the gates before disapparating with a sharp snap and a swirl of darkness.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the last death eater to flee the scene. She was clearly visible on the front lawn as the flames lit up her face, she was standing over the lifeless form of Fred Weasley, her manic laugh turning into a piercing cry as she looked to the sky where the dark mark had began to fade. Clearly distraught at the death of her master she dodged a few stray curses, slipped away from the body and into the darkness of the night.

The scene she left behind was horrific. Panicked voices could be heard everywhere, as witches and wizards dashed from body to body, identifying the dead and tending the injured. There was one however who remained forgotten, unmoving but not injured. Harry James Potter stood fixed above Voldemort who lay dead at his feet, his wand still in hand, he remained motionless.

_None can live while the other survives._

The prophecy had been fulfilled. Voldemort was dead.

It had not been like Harry had expected. He had lived his entire life waiting for this moment. The moment when_ he_, an 18 year old boy, would come face to face for the last time with the most powerful dark wizard of all time.

An now here he stood. Voldermort's crumpled body at his feet. The horcruxes destroyed. There was no way he could come back. He would no longer be haunted by his visions, the death and destruction had stopped, everyone could get on with their lives without fear.

But Harry had seen too much. He and everyone around him knew, that he would never have a normal life. To see so much death and destruction inevitably left a mark on the soul, a hole, a hole that would be difficult to fill. Especially for a teenage boy with no family and a guilt that would start eating at him from the inside.

He stood there for another moment breathing deeply, his eyes glazed over. Exhausted both mentally and physically he let the blackness take over him as he slumped to the ground, side by side with the man who had killed his parents, killed his godfather, and killed his friends.

The war had changed a lot of things. Friends had become enemies, enemies had become friends, and as Harry lay there on the cold ground drifting in and out of consciousness Snape's lifeless onyx eyes stared straight though him.

Harry could still not explain what had made him approach his dyeing professor, the man who had made his life a living hell for seven long years.

But as he had lay there in the shrieking shack, blood pouring from his neck, the hatred had disappeared and Harry had remained with Snape as he took his last breath, and by doing so revealed himself to the dark lord.

Tonight Snape had let Harry see his inner most thoughts and feelings, he had seen in the pensieve Snape's troubled childhood, his conversations as a child with Lily, he'd seen how they formed a friendship and how house rivalries divided them. Snape had really cared for Lilly, Harry could see that now.

It hadn't just been the incident in the shrieking shack with Remus, (where James had saved Snape from being attacked by Remus at the full moon) that had resulted in Snape's hatred.

It was jealousy, Snape hated James for taking Lily from him, and this bitter hatred had progressed, taking a more aggressive form towards Harry. Snape had thought Harry was his father, alike in looks it pained him to see Harry and be reminded of how James had hurt him.

Harry realised this was why he had originally turned to Voldermort, vulnerable and alone he had allowed himself to be recruited. But when Lily was killed Snape no longer wanted part of it.

Harry now knew why he had felt such remorse for the dying man in front of him. Snape's soul had been torn apart, corrupted, by what was right and wrong.

Harry could now see that Dumbledore had been right to trust Snape when others had faulted. Every minute of every day Snape had put himself in mortal danger as a spy, and all for Harry.

Like himself he had been asked to do too much, asked to do things without reason, kept in the dark, whilst being made to kill and torture the innocent.

Finally Harry had the truth, he finally understood Snape, and it saddened him. He had held so much contempt for a man he had known nothing about.

The two were a lot similar then he had originally thought, and in his heart of hearts Snape's death pained him.

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	2. Chapter 2 - Feelings I can't fight

**Chapter 2: Feelings I can't fight**

A white haze hung over Harry as he lay unconscious in the hospital wing. His body felt strangely light, weightless almost as an unnatural heat surrounded him. He wondered if this was what it was like to die, and wished he could stop in this peaceful place.

He could then be reunited at last, with his father, with his mother, with Sirius. He could apologise to Cedric, to Dobby, to Hedwig even. Oh how he had missed Hedwig. He had finally found peace, he no longer hurt, his mind was pleasingly blank and his emotions retained. The death and destruction was forgotten, the guilt subsided as he passed into an oblivion of tranquil serenity.

This state of tranquillity was destined not to last, and as the haze started to clear, the silence was broken by quiet voices, gradually they grew louder as he drifted closer and closer towards them. He felt heavy as his body regained its weight, and his eyes strained beneath their lids as they tried to focus without his glasses.

The voices were now almost distinguishable, as Harry lay there eyes shut tight trying in vain to shut out the noise. The pounding from his head was somewhat off putting but the drawl of a familiar voice was unmistakable. His mind was playing tricks on him surely, he must have hit his head as he knew only too well that his professor was dead. Perhaps this was how life would be from now on. A life of torment from those he had indirectly murdered.

He willed himself not to wake up, determined to linger in this state of oblivion for as long as possible, but it seemed the harder he tried to clear his mind the clearer everything became, until he was left with no other option but to open his eyes. They fluttered gently at first as the room came into focus before opening them wide and taking in his surroundings.

The ceiling was unwelcomingly familiar, the hospital wing at Hogwarts where Harry probably had spent more nights then most of the school put together. But this time it was different, Harry wasn't hurt; well not on the outside at any rate, no potion or lotion could take away the mind numbing pain that instantly hit him and an agony that engulfed Harry in a thick fog of reality.

He welcomed pain but none came, he was left with nothing but emptiness along with the uneasy feeling he was being watched.

"Nice of you to join us Mr Potter." Came a familiar drawl from his right.

Turning, Harry slowly opened his eyes, before gaping open mouthed at his professor, he was seated in a large arm chair which backed one of the two partitions, which concealed Harry's bed from view, a large dusty tome was propped open on his lap, his arm was slung lazily about the back and an amused smirk flittered across his pale face.

"Buttt…" Rasped Harry, eyes wide and a look of pure confusion on his face.

"YYY..oour dead, I… I…saw you, the bbb…lood.

"Eloquent as ever Potter."

Snape arched an eyebrow inquisitively at Harry, handing him a glass of water before crossing his arms. He pushed the glass away.

"It's not poison Potter."Snapped Snape shaking his head and pushing the glass back in his hand.

Taking a sip Harry continued to stare in disbelief at the man he only minutes ago believed to be dead.

Breathing deeply he tried to get up, he suddenly had so many questions to ask, He struggled slightly before a strong hand pushed him back on his pillow.

"I'm under strict instructions to see you rest Mr Potter, so that you will do."

Resigned to his fate he lay back down.

"I just don't understand, I saw what he did to you, he tore you apart!"

Snape looked pained at this, perhaps the memories where still a little too fresh.

Harry took a moment to analyse his professor, he looked older, strained, as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His left eye had been blacked, the other bloodshot. A large cut ran from his right cheek to his lip and a large red bruise ran down his neck and under his shirt which hid who knew how many more cuts and bruises.

"It's neither the time or the place for such a conversation Potter. Things happened last night that even I am yet to fully understand. Powerful magic is what kept me alive when I was an inch from death, and yet again it was our golden boy who saved the day!"

With that Snape stood, an air of bitterness about him, cloak bellowing behind him he stormed from the hospital wing, the doors swinging wide before shutting with a loud bang. Harry couldn't help but notice Snape's vulnerability as he limped pitifully from his bedside.

If Harry wasn't confused prior to this, he was now! How had this got anything to do with him? Snape had died in his arms, he saw the life leave his eyes as he lay there in a pool of his own blood. He had taken the memories from him as the last wish of a dying man. How was it that he could now be stood before him, clear as day!

And where had he gone now? Professor McGonagall was his best bet, soon everyone would be informed he was awake and the visitors would start flooding. He stopped himself suddenly. _Everyone? _who would be everyone? Who was left? Who would want to see him?

This was too much for Harry to take in, falling back against his pillow he closed his eyes and fell into a uneasy sleep plagued by dreams of flashing green lights and the ghostly faces of his mother and father.

The next time he awoke, the chair was occupied by another, one who this time was a little happier to see him. The soft smile of Hermione Granger was what greeted him, who shrieked with joy and flung herself on the bed in a bone crushing hug.

"Oh Harry we were so worried! We thought Professor Snape was lying and you were never going to wake up!"

Harry half heartedly returned the hug, he saw little to be happy about and thought Hermione a little insensitive for being so.

"Hey Hermione." He muttered between mouthfuls of thick brown hair. He wished she would hurry up and go and leave him to his thoughts, his head had began to ache again already.

"Hermione, I'm tired."

"But you've only just woke up" moaned Hermione.

"Please, just let me rest."

With this Harry turned his back on a very disgruntled Hermione, before feigning sleep. She remained rooted to the spot for several minutes confused at such a hurtful response, before decidedly storming off, slamming the door in very much the same way as Snape had some hours ago.

He waited anxiously for the door to close before peering back over his shoulder; peace at last. Rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and ease his pounding head he attempted to sit up, his head swam for a moment as he grasped at the bedside cabinet in search of his glasses.

His feet touched the cold stone and he sighed inwardly. He looked though the window across the room, he estimated it was late evening. He needed to escape this place, he needed to see the castle, see the destruction, the devastation that so far had been kept from him. Perhaps he would feel calmer, perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

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	3. Chapter 3 - Your free to leave me

**Chapter 3: You're free to leave me**

Harry could not have been more wrong. It was not as bad as he had initially thought, in fact it was much much worse.

He stood fixed at the top of the staircase looking down on the great hall, a wave of sickness hit him as his stomach clenched relentlessly.

The four long house tables had been pushed back against the walls to house rows and rows of stiff cold bodies surrounded by ashen, tear stained faces.

An hysterical Molly Weasley could be heard being dragged from the lifeless form of her son whose arm lay limp over the edge of the table. The other Weasleys stood huddled together, Ginny sobbed quietly into her fathers shoulder as George and Ron looked down on their brothers body a look of disbelief on their blank faces.

A lone silent tear ran down George's face as he bent to take Fred's hand. He squeezed it tight as the flow of tears he'd tried so hard to retain began to flow freely. He'd finally broken, laying across his twin brother he cried uncontrollably.

"WHY?" He shouted to no one in particular, pain evident in his wavering voice.

"Why him?" He asked turning his head to look at his father through tear filled eyes. "WHY HIM!"

"I don't know son" He replied slowly "I just don't know."

"It hurts too much." Were the last words Harry heard through stifled sobs as he saw George clutch his chest helplessly and slump to the floor, Fred's hand still held tightly in his.

Breathing deeply Harry stepped over some loose rubble and descended the stairs. Glass still littered the ground from the broken windows which glittered in the sunlight that had broken through holes in the walls of the castle.

Neville sat on the bottom step a dazed look on his face as he stared at the ceiling. Harry passed without saying a word stepping upon shards of glass which sunk painfully into his bare feet, but Harry hardly flinched as he carried on walking in a daze.

Entering the Great Hall was the most uncomfortable thing Harry had ever, or would ever have to do. Every pair of eyes were upon him as the room went silent, all that could be heard were Georges muffled cries as Harry crossed the Hall.

His eyes frantically scanned the tables of the dead. To the left were several Hufflepuff students still wearing their robes, he moved on, to the right lay professor Flitwick, stony eyed as he looked to the stars.

As he reached the middle of the hall Harry stopped abruptly. His face dropped as his breath caught in his throat, his worst fears where confirmed, there lay Remus side by side with Tonks, their hands where joined, both had fallen in the battle leaving their son an orphan before he'd even had time to know them.

A small smile graced both their faces, their eyes closed peacefully as though they where merely sleeping. He swallowed heavily as he stepped back in shock. George looked up at Harry from the floor meeting his eye in time to hear him whisper two words before he fled.

"I'm Sorry."

He ran as quickly as possible towards the entrance hall and out into the grounds his feet taking him along a hidden path, giving him as much distance from the castle as possible. He felt neither the cold winter wind or the cutting of the glass as it sunk deeper into the soles of his feet, he ran and ran until his legs gave way and he sank to the ground breathing heavily at the far side of the lake.

He slumped sideways onto the wet grass his body numb as his heart beat violently in his chest. His glasses slid down his nose and landed softly beside him as he breathed deeply and rolled on to his back. He looked up at the grey sky, dark clouds swirled across the setting sun, threatening rain. It would soon be nightfall he thought relaxing into the ground. The lake washed gently at the shore as he lay there breathless for what could have been five minutes, or five hours. The sky was turning slowly darker and the clouds thicker as a steady sheet of rain began to fall.

Closing his eyes as the cold rain ran down his face he sighed inwardly, it wasn't unpleasant Harry thought, the smell of the wet ground assaulting his senses made him feel surprisingly alive. The patter of the rain on the lakes surface was soothing and he finally felt at peace. Unbeknown was Harry to the blood that had began to pool at his feet, and unnoticed went his pale skin as he took on a hint of blue. He was content to enjoy this cold emptiness and to feel nothing.

However for the second time today this feeling of serenity was not to last, and he was brought crashing back down to earth by the same unexpected voice that had awoken him previously.

"I hardly think now is the time for sunbathing mister Potter." Came Snapes sarcastic drawl from somewhere to Harry's right.

Harry's eyes snapped open as he looked up into the dark onyx eyes of the potion master. His dark hair was plastered to his head and a look of great distaste was upon his face.

Harry took a deep intake of breath and shut his eyes again.

"Am I talking to myself?" Snape snapped all sarcasm leaving his voice. He had hardly come wandering the grounds in the driving rain for a little light exercise.

Harry could feel Snapes eyes boring into him. "Please, just leave me alone." He begged.

The desperation is his voice was crushing and Snape could do nothing to stop the intense wave of pity he suddenly felt for the pleading boy before him.

"Nobody will know you saw me." He whispered weakly through blue lips.

Looking at the fading form before him and back up to the castle Snape was clearly struggling with his inner self. Leave the boy here to freeze to death and get some well deserved peace and quiet which the intolerable boy had divested him of for 7 long years, or save him and be able to sleep with a clear conscience tonight.

Unconsciously battling with his feelings for several more minutes, Snape resigned himself to do the unthinkable, bending down he scooped up the boy in his arms and proceeded to carry him bridal style up to the castle.

Harry started a little but had little energy left to argue, and the sudden stinging in his feet left him unable to struggle. Snape pulled his cloak over Harry who had began to shiver, his wet pyjamas clinging to his freezing body, muttering to himself he quickened his pace.

Harry caught several muffled words as he struggled to stay conscious. "_Insufferable brat" _and "_obnoxious Gryffindor_," were among the most polite.

Several minutes later, Harry presumed they had reached the castle as he now heard hushed whispers from the confines of Snapes cloak and a slight jolt as he was carried upstairs. He struggled once again to keep his eyes open as the warmth of the castle enveloped him. The last thing he remembered was the high pitched voice of Madame Pomfrey and being set upon a soft bed before all went black.

"What happened?" Questioned Poppy grabbing potions in a mad rush.

"I don't know." Answered Snape standing there awkwardly dripping water upon the floor . "I was returning from a meeting at the ministry, when I spotted him laid at the far side of the lake."

He refrained from telling the Mediwitch of Harry's desire to be left where he was, believing the information would do more bad then good. Seating himself at Harry's bedside he watched as she poured several potions in his mouth, rubbing his throat to aid his swallowing.

A high strength pepper up potion Snape presumed, as bellows of smoke emitted from Harry's ears, and possibly a blood replenisher. Fetching some clean pyjamas from a cupboard Poppy proceeded to change Harry out of his wet ones, much to Snape's embarrassment. Not knowing where to look, he found a spot of mud on the floor very interesting until Harry was again safely dressed.

She then proceeded to gently pull the shards of glass out of the soles of Harry's feet, placing them in a bowl and spelling the wounds closed. Summoning a vial of salve from the shelf she covered the healed cuts and bandaged both feet before pulling the blankets up.

"I will summon the headmistress Severus."

With that she left the room, leaving Snape staring at the blank white face before him. Had the boy really got a death wish.

Before the potions master could really think on this a slight cough come from Harry's lips and his eyes flew open. He looked around frantically for a moment as Snape sat tentatively on the end of his seat. He caught his professor's eye and everything came flooding back. Remus, Tonks, Fred. The look on Georges face when he'd seen him; and then Snape, finding him at the lake and refusing to leave him.

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.

"You had no right to interfere." He spoke quietly, his voice quivering slightly.

"Everyone would have been so much better off."

With this he turned his back on his professor, marking the conversation as clearly over.

Snape sat there, slightly numb, unable to reply. He had hardly expected eternal gratitude from Potter but neither had he expected this. The boy made it sound as though he didn't want to live, but surely things had not come to that. He would have to have words with Minerva, the boy would have to be kept a very close eye on, Severus was aware more then anyone the effects that a war full of so much death and destruction could have on someone, especially one so young.

However what neither Harry nor Severus were yet aware of, was that the holes their hearts painfully harboured were identical in both shape and form to the one held by the other.

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	4. Chapter 4 - Just don't decieve me

**Chapter 4: Just don't deceive me**

Harry passed the following few days in the hospital wing; here Madame Pomfrey stipulated he stay to recuperate and to convalesce in peace and quiet. Granted, Harry had told her on several occasions that he was entirely fit and well, but still she insisted that he was not to leave until the weekend at the very earliest.

To hazard a guess Harry would have supposed it to be early July, though having had little mental activity or emotional stimulation as of late it was impossible for him to decipher a date. He was already fed up of people walking on egg shells around him, he was no longer a child. Still it was thought that there was no reason for Harry to know what was going on.

Not one of his questions had been answered and Snape was yet to make another appearance.

The summer looked promising, a heavy haze hung over the surrounding mountains and a softly scented breeze was permitted to enter through the open window of the infirmary.

Hogwarts had already been shut up for the school term. All students had been required to leave for home immediately after the battle to allow renovations to begin on the castle. The empty corridors now seemed eerily quiet, Ron and Hermione had already left, saying their goodbyes they had gone home with the rest.

Not once had Fred's death been mentioned and a false cheer surrounded the pair as though they were scared of mentioning something they should not.

The following year the three of them would soon be returning to the castle, along with the rest of the 7th years, to retake their final year and take any NEWTS they had missed. The majority of the staff had remained behind in order to assist McGonagall, the newly appointed headmistress, to rebuild the castle, but few had bothered to visit Harry in the hospital wing.

Not that he would have welcomed them anyway, but he told himself that was beside the point. His feelings over the last few days had been ambiguous to say the least. He knew little of what his feelings meant, finding it easier to leave them unanalysed then to try for a mere moment to understand their significance, or perhaps, insignificance.

He had hoped for some form of explanation by now. Snape had previously refused to acknowledge the questionable circumstances surrounding his survival and a weeks solitary confinement had left Harry with a head full of unanswered questions.

Nevertheless, Madame Pomfrey was still yet to question Harry about his motives the evening Snape had discovered him semi-conscious beside the lake in a state of self destruction, the presumption had been made that Harry had merely fled in his upset and passed out from the exhaustion. The question of intention had failed to cross anyone's mind. It was there after that Harry found himself fully dressed, trunk in hand some several hours later waiting for Hagrid to collect him from the hospital wing to escort him to the Burrow, here he would spend the remaining of his summer with Ron before they returned to Hogwarts.

The singular good thing that was destined to emerge from all this was Harry regaining his independence. Harry assumed that after the dark lords demise he would at least gain back the freedom he had so long sort after, but again he was wrong. Voldermort had gone, and been replaced with an equally frightening rabble of reporters and those confessing themselves to be "avid fans".

The mere notion sickening Harry to the stomach. The only thing that had been keeping the public from him had been Hogwarts and the protective wards it offered.

From the moment the news had spread, that Voldermort had been defeated once and for all, that the rumours had been true all along, that Harry had indeed been the chosen one and had rightfully followed his destiny by fulfilling the prophecy and preventing the downfall of the entire wizarding world, Hogsmede had been swarming with witches and wizards hoping to get a glimpse of the boy who lived.

The Ministry of Magic was back to its former self, those who had been under the imperious curse had been restored to their previous selves and Cornelius Fudge had been reappointed as Minister for Magic.

The Daily Prophet was back in former hands and were itching to get the first interview with Harry Potter. Reporters had been prowling the castle for the last week hoping to catch a glimpse but nothing had yet been seen of the saviour of the wizarding world.

An official statement had been made by Professor McGonagall in which she gave a detailed account of the events of the night in question, including a list of those that had lost their lives in the battle, before telling the protesting reporters that Harry would not be available for an interview as he was indefinitely indisposed.

It had been agreed that Hagrid would chaperon Harry to the outskirts of Hogsmede where a portkey would take them to the Burrow at a minute past noon. Harry found the prospect of this very tedious having had the ability to disapparate for an entire year but having never taken his test .

Harry begrudged being followed round but after stepping out of the safety of Hogwarts he very much appreciated having Hagrid with him, who charged through the crowd with outstretched arms pushing Harry along in front of him and brandishing his pink umbrella at anyone who came too close.

Rita Skeeter's horn rimmed glasses could be seen bobbing amongst the crowd, quick quotes quill dancing across a roll of parchment writing what exactly Harry had no idea, he hadn't even opened his mouth, although from past experiences Harry had learnt that this mattered little when it came to Rita Skeeter.

No doubt a nice front page article would be heading the Prophet tomorrow, full of things Harry had not, nor would ever say. He was beyond caring now, knock herself out he thought to himself miserably as he pushed through the crowd, face down turned as multiple cameras flashed threateningly at the edge of his vision.

The crowd followed for some time till the last stragglers reluctantly turned back at the edge of Hogsmede leaving Harry and Hagrid walking alone in silence. Hagrid glanced down at Harry who was trudging along half heartedly, dragging his feet.

It was a beautiful summers day, with a light wind that rustled peacefully through the trees. The melodic sound of birds singing harmoniously together and the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass assaulted the air. A scene that ought to have lifted the heaviest of hearts.

"You alr't Harry?" Hagrid looked worried as he stopped abruptly. Harry stopped in his path, took a deep breath and met Hagrid's worried gaze, a smile plastered on his face that if anyone took the time to look closely would realise never met his eyes.

"I'm fine, just need to get away from all that." He answered gesturing towards the village.

"Ah, yeh I imag'n that'll be last thing you'll be wan'in." Patting Harry heavily on the shoulder he carried on up the path. "Nearly the're now."

The path wound up a steep and stony hill and down into a narrow sunlit glade where a stream bubbled merrily across its bed. Hagrid had stopped at the waters edge where a punctured football lay at his feet.

"This il be it Harry." Gesturing to the ball at his feet. "Hurry up now, only a minute to go."

Hagrid replaced a large gold pocket watch into his coat and picked up the portkey, bowing low to make contact with Harry's outstretched hand they waited patiently for the customary pull and the endless spinning before they both landed sprawled upon the floor in the Weasley's swept back yard.

Picking himself up he quickly brushed himself off and picked up his trunk looking up at Hagrid expectantly.

"Can' be stopp'n Harry needed back at the school, giv' my bes' to Molly."

"Sure, see you around."

Harry waited nervously outside the Weasley's back door for several minutes, he had been waiting for this moment all day with trepidation. He had not had a chance to speak properly with any of the Weasley's besides Ron since Fred's death, and an anxious anticipation had been building within him.

He had never questioned before the intentions of any of the Weasley's love and respect that they had held for him. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley had regarded Harry as a son, Ron, Fred and George as a brother and after several years of disappointment on a romantic front even Ginny did. The older Weasley's had also held Harry in high regards, embracing him as a sibling, a most welcomed addition to the family.

It was inconceivable to suppose they could possibly continue in this way now, it was; and they all knew it to be; impossible to lay the blame on anyone but himself for their sons, for their brothers, untimely death.

If Harry had gone to Voldermort when he had demanded it, embraced the inevitable, he would have spared all this suffering. Instead he had permitted Fred like so many before him, to stand between him and his destiny, and this is how it had always been.

Harry, _hiding_ behind a row of those who meant the most to him, those who were willing to place their own lives on the line for _him._ Those who then _did _loose their lives for _him. _

They had all been prepared to fight a loosing battle for their saviour. Saviour? Harry scoffed at this thought. What kind of saviour had he possibly been. He was weak. A coward. Instead of accepting the calling of what was his to bear, he had let others do that which he should have accepted as his purpose.

A sudden sense of emptiness engulfed him as his insides squirmed unpleasantly, he hesitated, his hand upon the doors handle. With bated breath he pushed open the door and awaited the Weasleys response with apprehension. Every part of him ached for forgiveness, to be told they didn't blame him, but would he believe them even if they did.

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	5. Chapter 5 - Will drive you mad

**Chapter 5: Will drive you mad**

"Harry!" Came a voice from the kitchen.

"Oh, hello Mrs Weasley."

Harry put down his bag in the hallway and reluctantly permitted Mrs Weasley to pull him into a one armed hug, while a basket of washing teetered precariously in her other arm.

"So good to see you. Come in, come in. Ron and Hermione are in the sitting room Harry dear. Make yourself at home."

With this Mrs Weasley bustled off ticking off a list of jobs in what she likely believed was her head as she hurried upstairs.

Taking another deep breath he entered the sitting room where Ron and Hermione sat crossed legged before the open fire. It was a warm day so the fire had not been lit, but the picture it posed was infallible. The pair were deep in conversation, knees knowingly brushing together as they sat side by side in a world of their own.

An unexpected wave of nausea washed over him at the sight. It suddenly all made sense.

All those awkward excuses they had made in the hospital wing, the lingering glances, the knowing looks. They'd been laughing at him all this time.

They didn't need him anymore, his job was done, his life's purpose completed.

Bitterness clouded everything, bitterness that people were moving on, bitterness that people were finding happiness, and bitterness that he was being left behind once again in a hopeless cloud of desperation while everyone else around him got on with their own lives.

He was suddenly hit again with the impulsive need to run away. He didn't need their pity. If they didn't need him, he didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.

Quietly retreating from the living room he re crossed the kitchen and slipped out of the back door.

He hated the person he was becoming, if he couldn't be happy he resented the idea of anyone else being so. Happy endings only happened in fairy tales, reality held no happy ever afters. Crossing the yard he vaulted the fence and took off over the fields, fuelled once again by a raging anger he could not control.

He was eighteen now he thought to himself, he'd had enough of being told what to do, he had control over his own life now, he could do what he liked.

He walked for what felt like hours. The sun had began to sink when he decided to head back. Not once had he thought about what Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasley must have been thinking.

Mrs Weasley had come into the living room several hours ago to find no sign of Harry. After looking everywhere they had resigned to waiting in the kitchen in the hope he would return soon.

Three pairs of eyes lifted to the door as Harry came back in, gaze fixed firmly on the floor at such a reception.

"Hey guys."

"HARRY!" Gasped Hermione, jumping to her feet.

"Where have you been? Mrs Weasley said you'd arrived hours ago?"

"Oh, Sorry Mione I just needed some air and must have lost track of time." Lied Harry suddenly finding his trainers very interesting.

"Hmm.. Well your back now dear." Interrupted Mrs Weasley not initially convinced.

Harry sat down at the table, eyes still down cast to avoid the pitying looks that Ron was giving him.

"Go fetch Ginny and George please Ron." asked Mrs Weasley as she busied herself on the stove with dinner.

"Dinner will be ready in two minutes."

"Sure Mum."

Taking one last questioning look at Harry who refused to meet his eye, he went upstairs.

Harry swallowed heavily at the lump that had formed in his throat. Could he face seeing George?

Hermione had started to set the table across from Harry and couldn't help but notice his glazed over eyes as he looked straight through her, battling with an obvious affliction of thoughts.

All he had ever wanted was a family, somewhere to call home, someone to look after him like the family he'd never had. They had given him all of that, and then he'd thrown it all back in their faces.

The only people in the world that had genuinely ever cared for him, the only people that had mattered to him, and this was how he'd repaid them. He didn't deserve to be in their home. To sit at their table and eat their food. He'd torn their family apart. They had lost a son and a brother, and they were sitting down to eat dinner with the man who killed him.

Ron arrived back in the kitchen at the exact moment that Mr Weasley came through the door.

"Hey dad."

"Hello Son."

"Oh Ginnys on her way mum and George says he's not hungry."

Mr and Mrs Weasley shared a pained look at this before quickly glancing at Harry who had observed the communication.

"Ok, dear. Well everyone wash your hands and sit down."

Dinner was a quiet affair. No one spoke much and little was eaten by anyone. Ron and Hermione kept glancing at each other and back at Harry who was pushing his food around his plate with a look of distaste.

He'd not eaten since breakfast but under scrutiny of the entire room his food looked less then appetizing. After a few more minutes of unbearable silence he excused himself from the table and went up to Ron's room where he found his bag had already been brought up.

He quickly changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt and climbed into the bed that had been made up on the floor of the room.

He wasn't tired and doubted he'd ever be able to sleep tonight with so many thoughts swimming round his head, but at least if he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep he would be able to escape the questions and get some peace and quiet.

He could hear hushed voices from the kitchen and the sound of dishes being cleared away, before the sound of Ron's feet could be heard ascending the stairs.

Harry quickly turned over and feigned sleep.

The door creaked open letting in a sliver of light before it was closed and the room was cast back into darkness.

"Harry? Harry you awake? Asked Ron as he stumbled around the room as he got ready for bed.

Harry breathed heavily in a hopeful impression of someone sleeping.

He was emotionally drained, tired of questioning himself but unable to shut out his thoughts.

What right had he to be alive when so many had died. Why he may as well be dead, as inside he felt just as dead as them.

He remained still a few minutes longer until Ron's loud snores filled the small room. Getting up slowly he glanced over at his friend, mouth wide open as he slept peacefully.

What had happened to them? He felt like a stranger.

Quietly shutting the door he crept downstairs, on the third floor he stopped at the bathroom, leaning on the sink he breathed deeply, inspecting his appearance in the mirror above. Splashing water on his face he sat on the edge of the bath as he tried to compose himself.

Where had all this come from? True he had never been the happiest teenager, forced to grow old before his time there were some things a teenage boy couldn't go through without being forced to mature prematurely.

He'd missed out on most of his childhood, he'd become accustomed to living for the day, not knowing whether or not he would see the next day, or if he did who would be in it.

He took nothing for granted, had nothing to plan for except a lifetime of waiting. For eighteen long years he had waited for the inevitable; for judgement day. And the day had come, victory had been won and Harry had been cast aside with the rubbish.

Perhaps a drink would calm him down, suppress his thoughts enough to sleep.

He crept onto the landing ensuring everyone was in bed before heading down. Thankfully the kitchen was empty.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with a generous helping of fire whiskey. Mr Weasley would never notice, the Weasley's as a whole were drinking enough between them these days to quell any suspicions.

He took a walk around the moonlit yard, taking particular care not to wake the chickens. The silence was soothing and by the time he had finished his drink he had trouble repressing a yawn.

He rinsed his glass under the tap and went back up to bed.

On the second landing a door stood slightly ajar. Harry stepped carefully as he approached the bottom step but stopped suddenly. A faint voice could be heard from inside the door, faint, but clear. The voice became louder as sobs accompanied the speech.

Harry pressed his ear to the crack in the door were he heard the distinctive voice of Arthur Weasley.

"Come now Molly, I know, I know. We have to stay strong for George sweetheart. He won't cope alone"

"B..B..ut I miss him so.. much Arthur!" Wailed Molly. "A…nnd seeing… poor Harry tonight, it breaks my heart.

Harry had heard enough. Sprinting up the rest of the stairs he threw himself down on the bed as everything came crashing down around him. Molly blamed Harry for everything. How had he not noticed, Mrs Weasley couldn't bare to look at him knowing that he was alive while her son was dead.

His throat rasped painfully and his stomach churned unpleasantly. He'd ripped Mrs Weasley's world apart whilst the whole time she had put on a brave face. Harry was suddenly met with the memory of the hug she had given him early that afternoon.

Why were they trying to protect him? And what from? It was worse in Harry's eyes to be lied to. Why couldn't they just shout and scream at him. Blame him for it all, throw him from their house. Perhaps he would then be able to find closure. To embrace the guilt and move on with his life. No, this was much worse.

He stilled his breathing with his pillow, where he must have eventually fell asleep.

On the floor below Molly was still holding her husband tightly, tears flowing freely.

"He's not well Arthur! I can see it in his eyes. I can't loose Harry as well, I…I Just can't!"

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	6. Chapter 6 - Suspicion

**Chapter 6: Suspicion**

The next few weeks passed in very much the same way. Muttered excuses were frequented in the Weasley's kitchen amongst everyone.

George was yet to leave his room, other then to use the bathroom, and the ceiling beneath his room had become a focus point for the attention of Mrs Weasley on a lonely night.

Any sudden noise, or creak of a floorboard, brought hopeful eyes to rest longingly upon the empty staircase.

Harry tried to keep out of everyone's way, something he proved to be rather good at. He was often found sat upon the fence at the bottom of the garden where he would gaze across the fields, deep in thought, while Ron and Hermione watched helplessly from the third floor window. They didn't understand him. They couldn't understand him.

They had attempted on several occasions to get Harry to talk to them, but he would answer in the same dull tone that there was nothing to talk about, that he was fine and just wanted everyone to leave him alone so he could get on with his life.

Hermione was less easier to convince then Ron. With Ron's emotional range of a teaspoon he more often then not missed the subtle signs that Hermione picked up on.

It was the 30th of August, and Harry had been counting down the days before he would be returning to Hogwarts. Whilst in the hospital wing he had wished for nothing more then to get away from the morbid place, and to spend some well needed time with his friends. But after five weeks of endless questions and unwanted sympathy he felt trapped and stifled and longed for the freedom that Hogwarts provided.

Only two days remained until he could leave this pit of misery that had once felt like a second home to him. The place now felt infected. Impregnated with an internal despair that spread from the inside out. A place, he couldn't wait to leave.

The final few days at the Burrow flew by. A final trip to Diagon Alley had been organised so Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry could get any remaining school books and re stock their potion ingredients.

The four of them would head out together early that morning to get their things, before meeting Mrs Weasley in the Leaky Cauldron for lunch as she was stopping behind to iron all their uniforms. She was in a much better mood today as George had finally emerged from his room to eat with the family for the first time that morning.

Bright sunlight met them as they emerged from Gringotts with their coin purses significantly fuller.

Squinting down Diagon Alley Harry couldn't help but smile. The windows of Ollivander's glittered and the bell tinkled merrily as a steady flow of chattering students went in and out. Ollivander himself could be seen through the sparkling glass, rushing along shelves of wands in very much the same manor he had some seven years ago when Harry had bought his first wand.

Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour on the other hand remained boarded up. A large plaque had been erected upon the front door which read.

_"Always in out thoughts, forever in our hearts."_

_Florean Fortescue ( 1960 -1996)_

_A man who died fighting for what he believed, to the very end._

A "to let" sign hung from the upstairs window and cast a dark shadow over the Alley, a shadow not even the mid day sun could penetrate.

Harry's spirits were instantly dashed as that all too familiar wave of desperation washed over him. Similar plaques could be seen down the street.

"Under new management" headed Eeylops Owl Emporium. The snowy white tawny perched in the window brought a lump to Harry's throat as he thought of Hedwig.

"Errm you ok Harry?" asked Hermione.

She had been following his gaze for the last few minutes and had acknowledged his flurry of emotions.

Harry plastered an all too familiar smile on his face before answering.

"Fine Mione, why?"

"Well I just thought that, you know… seeing all this.. Might be a bit; well, upsetting."She tried not to catch his eye, as though she was embarrassed to be suggesting such a thing.

"No, I'm fine honest."

The rest of the trip passed quickly. They had obviously decided it was best not to speak to Harry at all, as they remained silent through out the rest of the day. Ron and Hermione set the pace, while Ginny wondered past the windows and Harry lagged several paces behind. Occasionally Hermione and Ron's hands would brush and they would look lovingly up at one another.

Harry wanted to vomit!

Their school books were bought and Harry had told the others he would wait outside the apothecary while the other three got all their potion supplies.

Harry sat down heavily on the top step of a closed shop across the street. He could not remember what it used to be, some sort of junk shop judging by its appearance. He let out a deep breath he had not realised he had been holding as he glanced down the street. Dropping his head into his hands he closed his eyes.

"Potter?"

_For christ sake! What was this mans problem!_

Harry's head snapped up to meet those dark onyx eyes. "Professor?"

"Looking as cheerful as ever." Mocked Snape.

"Hmmm, you seem to have that effect on people." Muttered Harry.

"What was that Potter!"

"Nothing Professor, Nothing." Harry had not spared a thought for Snape since leaving the Hospital Wing. It was a topic Ron and Hermione frequently discussed, but one Harry rarely shared any interest in. There was a time when his curiosity would have over took everything else, in an attempt to get to the bottom of something, but now he had neither the desire nor the energy to inquire any more.

"You're looking dreadful potter."

"Thanks" Harry uttered miserably.

At least one of them was looking a lot better though, Harry thought looking up at Snape's face. The bruising had completely vanished, and the remnants of a deep cut that had ran down his right cheek was now just a faint scar. Perhaps he was just a little bit curious as to how he had survived after all.

Harry's obvious gaze voiced several unintentional questions, questions both unasked and unanswered.

"What are you doing here Potter?" Snapped Snape, uneasy with such obvious scrutiny. _The boy needed to learn some subtlety. _

Harry continued to stare unabashed at the scars that littered Snape's neck, his eyes though fixed, were pointedly blank and uninterested.

"I'll ask you again, Potter, what, are you doing, sat, in a shop door way, by yourself?"

"Waiting." He replied in that same monotonous tone, as his eyes flicked up to meet his professors.

"For what? Might I ask? Christmas? An apocalypse? Speak quickly. I don't have all day."

"For Ron and Hermione, there in there." Harry lifted a pale thin arm to point haphazardly at the apothecary across the street.

"Of course." Snape sneered whilst giving Harry a sceptical look. "It would be in your best, interests Potter, to be fully alert, at all times. There are still, shall we say, dangerous, people at large, and we wouldn't want anything, heaven forbid, to happen to our precious _golden boy._"

Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm as he spat the last words.

Harry continued to stare through Snape as though he was no longer there. His eyes were glazed, disconnecting him from his surroundings.

An encounter of this kind, with a man he had hated with a vengeance for seven pained years, would generally as a rule have given rise to an extremely aggravated Harry, who would in turn bring about a remarkably irritated potions master, which was usually a triumph in itself.

But this customary impassion was struggling to ignite in him, as it once so easily would have done.

Snape looked at the boy before him, and for once, he actually _looked. _The boy, no man, was far too skinny, the baggy jumper he hid behind although disguising his body did nothing to hide his jutting cheek bones_. _

_Had he always looked like this? _Snape thought. _No, surely he would have noticed. _

Coupled with the dark circles under his eyes it painted a very gaunt picture. His collar hung loosely around his thin neck giving a skeletal appearance.

His pale bony hands were clasped painfully together from which protruded several blue veins. He caught Snape staring and stuffed them hastily into his pockets.

The bell of a shop chimed and Ron's voice could be heard from across the street. The sound rousing Harry somewhat, who quickly got to his feet.

"Hey, over here guys." he shouted a little too brightly.

Snape raised a questioning eyebrow at Harry, puzzled by such an abrupt change of character. Suspicious if anything.

"You need to eat more Potter." He barked, before turning his back and disappearing down the street in a flurry of robes.

"What did _he_ want?" Asked Ron after they had crossed the street, following Snape distastefully down the street with his eyes.

"Just the usual." sighed Harry. "Berated me on my apparent lack of care, slipped in a few snide comments, nothing I'm not used to."

"Well, least some things haven't changed have they." Laughed Ron patting Harry on the back

Harry wondered if this was true, as Snape's voice echoed in his ears. "_You need to eat more Potter."_

Yes he had stopped eating, he knew that. At first the churning in his stomach had prevented him from keeping anything down. The constant apprehension that ate at him expelling anything as soon as he'd eaten it.

The first few weeks of the holidays had been this way. Harry would eat what ever the Weasley's put in front of him as quickly as possible, usually without even chewing, never mind tasting.

He would then excuse himself moments later where he would haul it all back up and lay empty and shaking on the Weasley's bathroom floor.

What he didn't expect was the instant gratification this control had given him. Time and time again he would find a pair of eyes on his plate, Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, Hermione, even Ron watching him, judging him.

"Eat up Harry." They would say.

He wasn't a child, he would eat what, and when he wanted. The hunger he felt was so often disguised amongst feelings of grief and despair that he very rarely felt them, or at least one feeling was indistinguishable from the other.

_Time would heal, if he had a galleon for every time someone said that._

Time did not make things better. Time made things worse. The more time he had, the more suffering he managed to make himself responsible for.

The more time he had, the more he remembered, and the more he hated himself for forgetting in the first place. Any signs of a rational thought were instantly dashed by a voice that would justify the blame.

Days felt like years. Days where he was trapped, trapped by his own dark thoughts. Thoughts he didn't always agree with but pushed and pushed themselves with such force that he was overwhelmed with an instinctive desire to believe them.

He didn't want to forget!

Where had it all gone wrong?

Some days he awoke and forgot everything, he would have breakfast like a normal happy teenager. He would chat freely with Ginny and Hermione and sometimes even have seconds, much to Mrs Weasley's delight.

He would then play quidditch with Ron, where they would tire themselves out taking it in turns as keeper. They would then go in for dinner and talk about Hogwarts and their final year there.

Would it look any different after the renovations? What kind of headmistress would McGonagall be? Would Snape be returning to teach potions? Who would their new defence professor be?

_REMUS…._

Then that wound be it. Something would switch off all the lights in Harry's head, dark thoughts would creep from the shadows and he would start to remember. The black cloud would come crashing back down at the flick of a switch.

That night he had excused himself from the table to run straight to the bathroom where he had instantly make himself violently sick, disgusted in himself that he'd allowed himself to indulge so much without so much as a second thought.

What right did he have to be happy, to sit at the Weasley's table, to sit in Fred's chair, to eat Fred's food when he lay alone, cold in the ground.

He'd forgot the words that Mrs Wesley had spoken the night he'd arrived, almost as though he didn't want to believe them. But they were true, all of them and they were back repeating themselves in Harry's head over and over again.

_Seeing Harry… Breaks my Heart… Breaks my heart.. Breaks my heart._

"Harry… HARRY?"

"What? Sorry Hermione."

"Erm.. Where going to the leaky cauldron now."

"Right. Yeh course." Answered Harry a little too eagerly. It was like they were treading on egg shells when ever they where near him, and it drove Harry mad.

Molly was already waiting for them when they arrived, stood by the door she was deep in conversation with a man who's face they could not see. Only his cloaked legs could be seen as he stood half way inside the leaky cauldron. As Harry approached he said a quick goodbye before stepping out on to the street.

"SNAPE!" stated Ron in disgust. "What does that greasy bastard want now?"

"Ron! Language" Snapped Hermione.

He glanced briefly at Harry who caught his gaze, eyes wide with silent questioning.

When was this man going to leave him the hell alone! Every time he turned his head he was there! Interfering in his life like everyone else.

A sudden flash of emotion flared in Snape's eyes before returning to their usual black as he turned and walked away.

"What did he want?" Questioned Ron looking at his mother suspiciously.

"Nothing that concerns you dear. Now come on or we won't get a table."

Mrs Wesley scurried inside leaving the four of them outside looking at each other puzzled.

"Wont get a table?" Snorted Ron. "Where does she think we are?"

"Yeh that was definitely strange." Voiced Ginny. "Since when did mum ever talk to Snape?"

Harry had a suspicion he knew exactly what they had been talking about.

Dinner was a quiet affair apart from Ron, who constantly bombarded his mum about Snape through the entire meal trying to catch her off guard.

Harry pushed his food around his plate as hundreds of new questions flashed through his head. Seeing Snape today had got him thinking.

He seemed to be the the only one who did not treat him differently, did not pity him or sicken him with sympathy.

He suddenly realised that when Snape had snapped at him it had made him feel surprisingly alive. It had pulled him out of the dream like state that had engulfed him for most of the day.

It had made him think about something else for a change. Yes perhaps he was eager to know how Snape had lived and if he admitted it held just a little hope that he would be returning to teach next year.

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	7. Chapter 7 - Anger

**Chapter 7: Anger**

"BYE MUM!" Shouted Ron and Ginny waving frantically from the open window as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station.

"Bye dears. See you all at Christmas. Promise to write!"

"We will." They lied; though they need not had bothered as their voices were lost over the noise of the engine as Mrs Weasley's face disappeared in a flurry of steam.

"I'm going to go find Luna." Ginny said pushing her suitcase up on the over head racks. "See you guys later."

Harry, Ron and Hermione were now left in the quiet compartment. Harry sat slumped in his chair, he had allowed his hair to grow a little longer over the summer and his fringe now hung over his eyes. Ron looked nervously at him as though he wanted to say something, but quickly changed his mind.

Sitting down across from Harry he took out Quidditch Through the Ages and began to read, occasionally shooting furtive glances over his book and catching Hermione's eye. She too had taken out a book, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, by Miranda Goshawk and had begun furiously taking notes.

Harry had took to staring out of the window, a steady sheet of rain had began to fall and the surrounding country side was lost in a grey haze, they same grey haze that hung heavy on Harry's mind.

His watch ticked loudly in time with his rapidly beating heart. He was feeling a mix of emotions right now, his palms were sweaty and his face flushed. He was painfully aware that he was being watched and it troubled him to no end. He lifted his head reluctantly to meet Ron's gaze who quickly looked away.

"It's like being in a FUCKING ZOO!" Harry snapped, jumping up from his seat and stalking out the door slamming it closed behind him.

Ron and Hermione stared after their friend open mouthed.

"He's not going to be ok is he Hermione?"

"Apparently not." She replied sadly putting down her book.

Harry was fuming as he marched down the train, a red cloud was descending over his vision as he pushed roughly through groups of students. He finally reached the end of the train and pushed open the metal door that stood between him and a narrow open platform. His blood felt hot as it was driven violently through his veins. He was gripping the cold metal barrier firmly in between two tight fists as he panted heavily.

It was official. He was going crazy. How could one person feel so many things at once. Anger. Jealousy. Regret. Betrayal. Disappointment. All coupled with an every increasing feeling of self loathing.

He gripped the hard metal tighter as the rigid edges cut sharply into his palms. Blood dripped through his fingers disregarded by his body now pumped with adrenaline.

He tried to steady his breathing by taking gasps of cold air that stung his throat, grasping the metal still tighter as though it was his lifeline to earth, without which he was sure to be dragged heedlessly into nothingness.

He became rapidly aware of the rain that had never stopped failing from the dark sky. Already soaked to the skin he turned his face towards the sky and closed his eyes.

As his heart rate began to slow he let out a long breath and smiled. The now noticeable throbbing in his hands, and the gentle drip of the raindrops on his upturned face engulfed him in a distinct calmness . For the first time since the end of the war he felt alive.

It was a pleasant numbness, where blinking suddenly seemed unnecessary. He peeled his still bleeding hands from the iron bar and sunk to the ground. The blood now unheeded ran freely down his palms. The coppery smell of the blood combined with the rusting iron assaulting his nose.

He looked down, watching in almost fascination as drops of blood dripped liberally on to the floor before being washed away in a red swirl by the rain.

It suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world right now. To just sit here and feel. Nothing else mattered as he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, exhausted he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He was asleep when the train pulled into Hogsmede station and Hermione and Ron got off. He was still asleep when a pair of black eyes searched the crowd for a mop of black hair. He was asleep when said pair of black eyes boarded the train in search for him, and was still asleep when Snapes dark form loomed over his sleeping one.

"Potter!" Snape hissed. No response.

"Potter!" He stirred slightly but remained asleep.

Oh he was going to enjoy this thought Snape happily. He leant down slowly until he was level with Harry's ear.

"POTTTERRR!

Harry jumped up stumbling slightly, looking around frantically. "Shit!" he mumbled as he clutched his chest.

"Language Potter."

Snape surveyed Harry for a moment smirking as he looked around, realising they had already reached Hogsmede and that him and Snape were likely to be the only two remaining on the platform.

"Well?" Asked Snape, arms folded across his chest, one articulate eyebrow raised in question and a smug smirk on his face.

"Well what?" Harry asked doing everything with in his power to avoid meeting that piercing gaze.

"This is starting to become a habit Mr Potter. I am not stupid, so do not make me out to be! How you choose to express yourself is entirely your own business. That is until I find myself being dragged yet again into another one of your attention seeking facades. I have lessons to prepare for Potter and snivelling first years to attend to."

His lip lifted in a snarl as he said these last words. Harry pitied every one of those unlucky first years.

"I, I ermm needed some fresh air." Yes that would do.

"I must have fallen asleep."

"And I must have come down with the rain Potter! Both you and I know that that is not what happened!."

"You don't know anything!" Harry snapped clenching his fists painfully, letting out a hiss as he reopened the cuts their.

"On the contrary Mr Potter" said Snape glancing at Harry's hands now gripping his bunched up sleeves.

"I know more then even you know."

And there it was again, that flicker in Snape's eyes, deep in their depths and Harry couldn't look away. He held his breath as those dark onyx eyes pierced his soul.

Harry suddenly felt uneasy. Would he use legilimency? Yes its use on a student was forbidden but he had had permission to use it on Harry in practice so perhaps it would not matter.

"Just leave me alone!" Barked Harry angrily, pushing past Snape onto the train.

Harry was right, the platform was deserted as he stepped off the train. Just a lone carriage remained, two tethered thestrals waited patiently at its front. They unnerved Harry as they stood there in the dark, their breath coming out in misty clouds and the rain falling through their skeletal frames. They saw Harry coming and pawed the ground impatiently. He stormed across to the carriage climbing in and slamming the door shut behind him.

The thestrals obviously had other ideas as they stood waiting, Harry could just see through the window as it rapidly steamed up Snape emerging from the train and crossing towards the carriage. He stopped abruptly in front of the thestrals and Harry could hear him speaking in a low whisper before he opened the carriage door and Harry turned stubbornly away.

Harry found himself wondering how many people Snape had seen die. Had they been people he had killed himself, or like Harry had he watched those he loved die before his very eyes.

The ride up to the castle was slow. Harry had never known it take so long, the silence was torture. What made things worse was Harry could feel those dark eyes boring into his head. His palms had began to throb painfully as he grasped his sleeves tighter.

They finally ground to a halt and Snape swept from the carriage, leaving the door wide he darted up the steps and through the tall doors. Harry remained in his seat for a few moments regaining his posture.

The rain was relentless, bouncing noisily off the roof it did nothing to muffle the noise from the great hall. He was very late, and everyone would be waiting for him. He had spoken to hardly any of his classmates since the battle, most had gone home before it began and those that had stayed were either dead or long gone when he had woken up. A lump formed in his chest as the familiar tangle of snakes writhed in his stomach.

Well there was no time like the present. As his feet touched the ground the door closed silently behind him and the carriage took off, Harry watched it for a moment as it turned behind the school. He walked slowly up the steps, the rain flattening his already drenched hair to his head. He looked up at the castle which glowed in the moonlight, they had done a good job of rebuilding it, with hardly a brick out of place. He slipped into the entrance hall, stopping in the bathroom on the first floor to gather some toilet paper to wrap around his bleeding hands before he ventured into the great hall.

You could cut the atmosphere with a knife, in the silence you could hear a pin drop. It was the first time a lot of the students had seen Harry since the final battle and their hero was not a pretty sight as his once tight fitting robes swung loosely off his body as he walked.

He gave the hall a once over, quickly identifying Ron and Hermione's heads that were already turned on him in the sea of students. They were sat a few rows from the teachers table so made an immediate bee line for them, walking briskly, eyes down turned. Those familiar eyes where already trained on him, watching his every move. Everything, from the way he walked, head down turned to the way he avoided looking or speaking to anyone, reminded Snape painfully of himself at that age.

Snape continued to watch Harry as he sat between his two friends. He watched as they exchanged a few words in quiet whispers before Harry picked up a fork whilst skilfully avoiding eating even a morsel of food. He would push the food around his plate for as long as possible before taking a piece on his fork. He would then bring it to his lips, turn to speak to one of his friends whilst placing it skilfully back on his plate and selecting another piece.

Snape watched as he repeated this process several times, resulting in a mashed up version of what he had started with, but to the untrained eye it looked like less then what he had put on his plate in the beginning. Snape found himself smiling slightly despite himself, the boy had a talent he would give him that.

Snape watched in almost fascination as his friends remained blissfully unaware, casually going back to their gossiping .The Weasley boy seemed to look a little longer then the others but then went back to a conversation with the Granger girl while shovelling mouthfuls of mashed potato in at every given chance.

And their sat Potter, silent, still pushing a scrap of food around his plate. His wet fringe was dripping onto the table and a puddle had began to form at his feet. His hands now heavily bandaged here pushed up in his sleeves and were shaking profusely. This had not gone unnoticed, Snape bet he could hear the whispers as clear as he could.

"Is that Potter." Whispered a 4th year Hufflepuff glancing over her shoulder. "He looks terrible."

"I think it is you know Ruth." answered another craning her neck, her fork that had been on it's way to her mouth lay forgotten in her hand.

"And to think, you used to fancy him." Sniggered Ruth laughing into her pudding.

Both girls turned back to their plates laughing and talking in hushed voices that Severus could no longer hear. He sensed the anger rising in him before it actually hit and before he knew it he had risen from the table and crossed to the girls in front of him. All eyes were on him, including a pair of intense panicky ones looking out from behind a long fringe.

"If Miss Everwood and yourself feel you can not control your juvenile gossiping, not only in front of the entire staff table but the individual in which you mock, then you will both find yourselves with a weeks worth of detentions!" barked Snape.

"Do I make myself clear!"

The two girls sat there open mouthed, shocked at being caught.

"Yes professor. " they answered together, glancing at each other guiltily before looking down at the floor.

Arranging his robes Snape straightened up before sweeping from the great hall. Everyone soon went back to what they where doing except for one lone pair of green eyes that followed him intently from the hall.

No one spoke to Harry after this. Although the whispering had stopped, he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. He waited till the Great Hall was almost empty before venturing from his seat. Hermione and Ron were waiting hesitantly in the entrance hall where they all walked up to Gryffindor tower in silence.

They said goodnight albeit a little awkwardly as the staircase split. When they entered the 7th year dormitory that they had shared with Seamus, Neville and Dean for the past seven years they where already unpacking their cases.

They where talking in hushed voices, but as they pushed open the door the room was plunged into silence. They each looked up with identical guilty faces.

"Hey Harry." said Neville.

Harry bit back a retort. He knew Neville didn't have it in him.

"Hi Neville."

Neville replied with a slight smile, as the others looked at each other nervously.

He would leave his unpacking till later.

"Night." He said a little abrupt. Before pulling the curtains on his four poster together and throwing himself fully clothed on to the bed.

He lay listening to his other room mates unpacking and talking about their summer holidays.

Dean had spent the summer with his grandparents in the south of France, his parents had thought it important he escape England for a while until the Ministry had got everything back on track.

Neville had apparently stayed with his grandmother where he had visited the Ministry of Magic on almost a daily basis to help out with the war trials. Harry listened as he gave Ron and Dean a detailed account of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's trial where McGonnagol herself had seemingly given evidence in their defence.

Harry lay awake for what felt like hours, the rest of the dormitory had long been asleep and Ron's shallow snores echoed around the room. He tossed and turned restlessly, getting more and more agitated with every minute. It was no use. He would never get to sleep when he felt like this. He just couldn't seem to switch off, leaving thoughts and feelings to flow freely through his head.

Throwing the covers off he crept out of bed and over to the window. He sat on its sill, feet drawn up as he looked out onto the lake. The rain had slowed to a stop but a loud wind still blew. The moon cast a silvery glow across its surface, several thestrals were circling over the forbidden forest, calling to each other in strange soft tones.

He opened the window slightly and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly though his nose. It could have been any time, though to hazard a guess he would say the very early hours of the morning.

His hands where pulsing under the layers of toilet paper he had haphazardly wrapped around them. He sat and peeled off layer after layer revealing two identical pink cuts. They weren't deep but using his hands where going to be a pain for the next few days.

He flexed his hands, the bleeding had stopped but the pink welts were still fresh and weeping. He bunched up the wads of paper and seized them between his clenched fists.

The window frame rattled loudly as it was hit by a particularly strong gust of wind and the curtains of the nearest bed fluttered.

Harry reached out to pull the window closed before noticing a shadow passing over the moon. A bird was flying in direction of the north tower carrying a small package in its claws.

The bird flew lower and lower before Harry realised it was heading for the window, throwing it open the bird which turned out to be a large black owl flew gracefully into the room, dropping its parcel before heading back out.

Harry crossed the room, grabbed the package before sitting on his bed. He didn't recognise the owl but knew instantly it was for him. The package contained a potion bottle, filled with a thick viscous substance labelled, healing salve.

A letter was attached to the bottle by a piece of string. Upon it was written one sentence in familiar spindly writing.

_It will only get more real._

Harry was livid. How dare he pry. Was this some sort of sick joke, because he was far from amused. He threw the lotion into his trunk and burnt the letter with the tip of his wand.

He laid on his back for a few minutes staring at the canopy, his hands pounding painfully. His eyes flickered over to the bottle that stuck out of his trunk before he snatched it up and applied it roughly to his hands.

It was too late Snape thought as he sat in his study, he knew all the signs and the boy was already broken.

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	8. Chapter 8 - Believe me when I say

**Chapter 8: Believe me when I say**

A dark, hooded shape emerged from the shadows. It paced the room unnervingly slow, circling the bed in the centre of the room. A body lay upon the bed, unable to move. Paralysed by invisible bonds Harry struggled to get up. His body felt impossibly heavy as he followed the figure with his eyes. A strange hissing noise was coming from the hood as it shifted closer to the bed, a current of cold air washing over Harry as it began to climb atop it.

His heart pounded violently in his chest as the shadow crawled upon him. Sweating profusely Harry strained relentlessly, willing himself to move. The breath was suddenly drawn from his lungs as the figure sprung forwards to kneel on his chest. A foul smell assaulted Harry's nose as the thing above him loomed closer. Its hood fell back slightly to reveal a row of rotting black teeth, emitting a loud screech blood began to pour from its open mouth. It ran in rivulets down his chin and flowed freely across Harry's face and chest. The creature above him threw back his head and laughed manically bringing his hands to wrap around Harry's neck. Gasping frantically as his mouth filled with the creatures blood everything went black.

"Harry…. Harry?" Whispered Ron shaking him slightly. "Harry, wake up."

Harry lay upon his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory his sheets were tangled about his waist as he thrashed violently, sweat running down his face he grasped his neck in desperation.

Ron grasped him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "HARRY! WAKE UP!"

His eyes suddenly shot open, his pupils dilated he gasped, leant over the bed and vomited.

He sat back up breathing heavily as Ron looked at him anxiously. Flicking his wand slightly to clean up the mess.

"You ok mate?"

Harry flopped back against his pillow before answering. It was still dark, but he could see Ron's worried expression by a strip of moonlight coming through the curtain he had forgot to close.

"Yeah, sorry to wake you, bad dream." Replied Harry closing his eyes to steady his breath.

"Well as long as your ok, I'll erm.. Be going back to bed yeah."

"Right sure, thanks for, you know, waking me." Answered Harry somewhat uneasily.

"No problem. Night Harry."

"Night Ron."

From that night on, Harry always remembered to put up a silencing spell before bed.

The next morning Harry woke with a pounding headache and a stiff neck. The dormitory was quiet as he quickly got dressed and headed down the staircase. The common room was as equally quiet, Crookshanks, Hermione's large ginger cat was the only occupant curled up happily in an overstuffed armchair in front of the burning fire.

A large muggle clock ticked loudly on the wall, confirming Harry's worst fears, he was late, in fact he was very late, and not just for any lesson, it just had to be potions; double potions with the Slytherin's.

Cursing loudly he sprinted out of the portrait, and down to the dungeons. After bowling over several lost first years he came to an abrupt halt in front of the classroom door.

Panting heavily he clutched his ribs. A year ago he was at the peak of physical fitness, now after several months of eating little and doing very little exercise he was suffering from acute malnutrition and was feeling weaker then he would ever admit.

Snape's voice could be heard reverberating off the dungeon walls as he barked loudly at the class, although the first day back he seemed to be already in a foul mood.

Opening the door quietly he hoped to slip unobserved into his seat. Snape was looming over a potion in the far corner the steam obscuring his face from view. Creeping behind a row of desks he turned his back on him and made his way silently to his seat.

Just as Harry thought he had successfully done it, that familiar drawl came floating across the room.

"Nice of you to join us Mister Potter, contrary to popular believe, killing the dark lord does not give you the right, nor the privilege, to turn up to my class when ever you see fit. The other professors may bend to you ever whim Potter, but I seem to remain the only one that see's you for the person you really are. I refuse to lick your boots Potter! The mere thought of it makes me want to vomit! 10 points from Gryffindor, and see me after class."

Harry had remained silent throughout Snape's rant as the rest of the class looked between the two, waiting with bated breath. This scenario was all too familiar and so was the outcome.

But Harry didn't retaliate, he rarely did anymore. So much for Snape changing thought Harry to himself as he slipped into his seat between Ron and Hermione. "Yes Professor." he replied never making eye contact.

The rest of the class were fixed between the two of them, more out of surprise at Harry's complacency. Harry and Snape's almost daily quarrels had been a source of enjoyment for everyone, a little bit of entertainment in an otherwise boring classroom. The Slytherin's however were finding the situation highly amusing, sniggering and whispering behind raised hands.

"Ron, why didn't you wake me ?" hissed Harry several minutes later, his breath coming out as a cold white mist.

"I tried mate, but it was like trying to wake the dead. Seamus even threw a stinging hex at you."

The rest of the lesson was uneventful, that is in comparison to an average potions lesson. It was then that Harry noticed Snape was looking a little under the weather, his face looked somehow gaunter then usual and his eyes looked heavy as though he had had little, if any sleep at all. Harry suddenly remembered the owl from last night, and wondered what time it had actually been.

Harry had obviously been exhausted to have not only slept through breakfast but half of his lesson too and Snape was looking as though he could have also done with a lie in that morning. Glancing up from the book he had been instructed to read on the potion he had now missed, he noticed Snape was watching him intently.

He was doing it again, that gaze had the power to see not only into minds but through souls as well. Once Harry had caught that gaze he found himself unable to look away.

Something was not right, something had changed. Since the day he had woken in the infirmary, seen the man he had thought dead sitting so casually at his bedside but with the same malice, the same sarcasm, Snape had been around ever corner, at the end of ever street, waiting, watching.

Under what obligation could he possibly feel he was under this time. Was he still feeling compelled to look after Lily's son even now Voldermort was dead. His unrelenting observing was starting to become a little unnerving.

It was Snape that looked away this time. Giving one last look full of almost concern, he went back to the papers he was grading. A loud scrabble accompanied the bell that signalled the end of the lesson, as everyone collected up their bags and books and headed for the door.

Snape's voice could just be heard over the rabble. "Don't forget I want two feet on the wolfs bane potion and its effects by Monday!"

The door shut loudly as the last student quickly exited the dungeon. This left Snape and Harry alone in the freezing classroom. Harry had remained in his seat staring at his lap as Snape came out from behind his desk.

"Potter…." Nothing.

"Potter, how many times must I tell you to look at me when I address you. Did those muggle relatives of yours teach you anything."

Unknowingly Snape had touched a nerve. Harry had hated his aunt and uncle with every fibre of his being, but he would never have wished upon anyone the fate that had become them.

At midnight on the day of Harry's birthday, the wards that had protecting Harry at Privet Drive for the last seventeen years fell. Death eaters immediately surrounded the house, from within this mass stepped Voldermort himself. The Dursley's had been offered immediate protection when it was first believed their safety was at stake. But they had refused to take it, Harry himself had been with professor McGonagall to stress the danger they where putting themselves in by remaining at this house.

But uncle Vernon would not have it. He would not be forced from his own home. So now here they where, Voldermort had walked up number 4's drive, Nagini gliding silently at his side, he had knocked once on the door and he had waited.

The seconds past slowly, but still he waited, a light could be seen in the upstairs window as footsteps were heard descending the stairs. The lock was turned and the chain drawn before the door was flung open.

"Who the hell are…." shouted Vernon angrily. The last words dying on his lips in a flash of green light. A slight smile graced the dark lords face as he and his followers stepped through the wards.

They searched the kitchen and the living room, but found nothing. There was no sign that the boy had been here at all. He was starting to get mad. Several death eaters were guarding the front door when a shriek was heard on the landing, Petunia Dursley, who had gotten up to see what her husband was doing.

A door banged as she fled to Dudley's bedroom barricading themselves in. The death eaters began to ascend the stairs but were stopped by a raise of Voldemorts hand. He needed do this himself.

He did not rush, they had no where to go, there was no escape. After quickly waking Dudley Petunia had pushed both the bed and wardrobe in front of the door to try to keep the dark lord at bay. She now sat crouched in the far corner, Dudley cowering behind her listening intently hardly daring to breath.

"Come out, come out where ever you are." Mocked Voldemort in a sing song voice from outside the door. "Just tell us where he is, and no one else will get hurt."

"We don't know." Whimpered Petunia clinging to a shaking Dudley. "I swear, please leave us alone."

"Then you leave me no choice." A loud bang and the door was blasted from its hinge, the wardrobe and the bed flying across the room.

Voldermort loomed in the doorway as the dust settled. "Give…him…up…Lily."

"I'm not Lily." Sobbed Petunia.

"Of course your not." simpered Voldemort an eerie smile on his pale face. "Then give up the boy."

"I've told you, we don't know!"

"Then perhaps this will help you remember. STAND ASIDE!"

"No please, not my Dudley, please I'll do anything."

Voldermort stepped forward his wand raised towards Dudley. "OK! okay, at school, the boy is at that school."

Voldemort lowered his wand, and laughed a long laugh. "Now that wasn't so difficult was it.?" "AVADA KADAVRA!"

A second flash of green light and both Petunia and Dudley lay like stone, eyes blank, staring at the ceiling.

It was Harry who found them like this several hours later, it was Harry that took all three lifeless bodies to the hill at Freshwater Beach where earlier that year he had buried Dobby amongst the sand dunes. Here he dug by hand three identical graves in which he buried his aunt, his uncle and his cousin. Upon Vernon and Dudley's headstones he wrote nothing but their names, but upon Petunia's he wrote "Loving Sister and Aunt." He then proceeded to lay upon it a bouquet of lilies. He cried tears he hadn't expected, tears he didn't understand.

He stopped at fresh water beach with Fleur and Bill for several days, the miles and miles of serene beaches a haven for his over occupied mind. It was only the thought of revenge that had him return at all.

"Potter… Potter are you even listening to me!"

"What? Oh sorry professor."

"Professor McGonagall requires your presence in her office."

"Right." Answered Harry already stuffing his books into his bag and slinging it onto his shoulder.

He had just reached the door his hand on the handle when Snape's voice called him back. "Oh and Potter; stay away from sharp objects, this behaviour is starting to become tedious."

Harry took a deep breath before turning where he stood, it wouldn't do to loose his temper. "I never asked for help professor."

"No Mr Potter, you never do." Snape then turned scooping the pile of parchment from his desk and swept into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Harry stood still for a moment puzzled by Snape's outburst before remembering that Professor McGonagall was waiting for him.

Several minutes later and Harry was stood before the large stone gargoyle that guarded the staircase to what used to be Dumbledore's office. Harry had not been able to bring himself to come here since Dumbledore's death and didn't have a clue as to the new password.

He hadn't been waiting long when the staircase began to spin and professor McGonagall came into view. "Ah, Mister Potter, would you care to take a walk with me."

"Sure." answered Harry wondering what this was all about. They walked in silence through the empty corridors and out into the grounds before a word was spoken.

"I think I should clear a few things up." Started professor McGonagall who had stopped in her tracks to look across the lake.

"You deserve an explanation, one I do not believe Severus will be all that willing to give you. "

"I know this is hard to talk about, the end of the battle was terrible Harry, for us all, but I need you to tell me what you remember about Professor Snape?" There was a long silence before Harry replied.

"Erm." Harry didn't quite know what to say. No one had asked him what had happened that night, and he was not entirely sure if he would be able to put it into words. If truth be told he did not know how he felt about Snape anymore. The hatred Harry had felt for his potions professor had all been built on a lie. Snape hated Harry but had still spent all his life protecting him.

"I was shocked I suppose, I just stood there frozen, taking it all in. It was as though somehow I just couldn't, wouldn't believe that he had died like that. He lay there at my feet helpless gasping for breath, and the blood, there was just so much blood. I tried to stop it professor I really did, but I was too late…. He breathed deeply for a moment before continuing."He then grasped my face and made me look at him, that was when he made me take the memory…. The memory that changed everything."

"I stayed and watched as the life left his eyes, I heard him take his last breath. I shut his eyes and then I left."

Minerva watched Harry carefully as he spoke, he never once looked at his professor he just looked across the lake, speaking as though to himself.

"Now this Mister Potter is where the story gets interesting. I found Professor Snape what I believe was around three hours after your account ends. He remained as you described, slumped against the wall in the boathouse surrounded as you say by an alarming amount of blood, yet a white haze was now emitting from his nose and mouth and I noticed much to my surprise that his chest was rising and falling ever so slightly."

"He was brought up to the hospital wing where he remained for several days. His neck wound had been treated but no other injury could be seen. It all seemed a mystery. Then several days before you woke yourself, Severus came round. It took him a day or two to regain his strength and with a lot of coaxing he told me what he knew. He remembered seeing you, he remembered coaxing you to take the memory believing to be mere seconds from death and wanting you to know the whole story. Then that is where things begin to get a little hazy."

"When you went to Severus, when you took that memory willingly, when you finally understood him it evoked an ancient type of magic, one not so different to the magic that lily called upon all those years ago. It was old magic Harry, very old indeed. Magic like this has not been recorded in over 800 years. There are parts of it we understand and parts we don't. But I can at least tell you our theory.

"But I don't love.." began Harry looking a little panicked.

"No Harry." answered Minerva smiling."You misunderstand me, it was not love that evoked this magic, we believe, and I stress that this is only a theory Harry that it was a type of sacrificial protection, but with almost reverse effects. Although indirectly, if Snape would have died that night it would have been for you, Voldemort yet again underestimated the power of not only love but of sacrifice, though if it was for you or for the protection and well being of the wizarding world I do not know."

Harry scoffed at this, each sounding less likely.

"I believe that whilst you were in Dumbledore's office, your head most likely already in the pensieve, that memories were also flashing through Severus's mind. Every thought or feeling you have ever experienced flashed through his mind in a flurry. He experienced every one of your dreams every one of your downfalls. It is thought that that night, for just a moment, your magic became one, you both finally understood one another and the power that such an experience emitted spelled the poisonous venom from Severus' veins."

Harry stood mouth agape, looking at his professor with shocked abandonment.

"I don't believe you." Harry finally stuttered out. "It's impossible."

McGonagall looked down at Harry a slight smile upon her thin lips. "Improbable Harry yes, but not impossible."

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	9. Chapter 9 - Tells the story

**Chapter 9: Tells the story**

Harry began spending less and less time with Hermione and Ron, and even less time on his studies. His grades were dropping, and still Snape's ever present shadow followed him were ever he went. He spent all his free time wandering the castle grounds, showing little regard for rules or regulations and being caught out after curfew on almost a daily basis.

It was eight weeks into the school term now and Harry was feeling as numb as ever. Everyone avoided him, students and teachers alike and that suited him just fine. The whispering, the taunting, it didn't matter anymore, they could not hurt him more then he was already hurting. Eight weeks had been long enough to render him a lost cause in their eyes, in everyone's eyes. It was the looks of pity, of sympathy that cut through Harry like a knife. They thought he was mad, and for the most part, this was true. He was left to himself, entirely alone, lost in a world in which he could never get home.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table knife and fork in hand, his breakfast as usual lay untouched before him. Ron and Hermione sat across from him, neither encouraged him to eat anymore but sat with him more out of habit. Harry had tried skipping meals entirely at first, the agony of having to sit through this scrutiny three times a day becoming too much. Professor McGonagall soon noticed his absence however, how much of this was down to Snape Harry wasn't entirely sure, but now he found himself having to sit through every excruitiating meal. Not that it meant he ate of course.

After five days of this unbearable scrutiny Harry had been to the kitchens to see Kreacher. Although Kreacher didn't understand why his Master wanted him to take food from his plate during mealtimes he did as he was told. Harry knew Kreacher had to do anything he asked of him, willingly or otherwise and the less questions asked the better.

This was enough to keep the likes of Professor McGonagall at bay but Harry would have been a fool to overlook the likes of Snape. He knew Harry wasn't eating, he also knew whatever he did eat would soon be brought back up in the nearest toilet on his way to his next class. The numerous jumpers he had started to wear under his robes did little to hide his rapid weight loss from Snape and Harry's lack of concentration in everything he did was a flashing amber warning.

Snape watched as Granger extended a hand over the table to cover Potter's. He was grasping his knife in what was now a vice like grip. Taking the knife from him, she proceeded to stuff a napkin into his fist that had began to drip blood. He had been gripping the blade end. His face a blank page as he stared at her, looking but no longer seeing. "Sorry." Snape heard him mutter coming back to himself as he placed his fork on the side of his plate and excused himself from the table. Snape was the last to leave the Great Hall, and as he walked past the seat Harry had occupied the knife still lay upon the table, the all too familiar glint of scarlet upon its blade.

Harry did not attend any of his lessons that day, after breakfast he had headed straight to the Gryffindor common room to retrieve his invisibility cloak and went out to sit by the lake. There was a quiet place out there, hidden beneath the boat house that you could get to from the back of the castle if one walked close enough to the water. No one ever came this way anymore, the boathouse was one of the few parts of Hogwarts that had not been rebuilt after the war. All that was left was an expanse of stone floor that looked out across the Locke.

Harry sat here now, wondering if he was perhaps sat in the exact same spot where Snape had laid. He did not know what it was about this place. But it was the only place he could think straight. He finally relaxed as he took off his cloak, no one would see him here in the shadows of the schools towering walls. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head upon them as he took a deep breath.

Why was he here? Why had he come back to this place, filled with memories of those he would much rather forget and of which he could never escape. What good would his grades be now. An Auror; that's what he had wanted to be. He laughed out loud, an unnerving sound that lacked any humour and echoed eerily in the silence. That was hardly going to happen now, what good was he to anyone now, he knew he was stuck on a slippery slope he just did not know how to get off. He was on a one way path to destruction and the deeper he got the darker he felt.

He had stopped trying to think about Snape, it just gave him a headache. There was something he just could not put his finger on. Snape's behaviour was puzzling; in class Snape was unnervingly consistent, he berated Harry on everything he did refusing to treat him any different, he took points when needed and threatened detention when necessary. It was Snapes behaviour out of class that baffled Harry. He was still finding it difficult to take in what Professor McGonagall had told him and was finding it difficult to say the least, to come to turns with what it all meant.

He avoided Snape like the plague, spoke to him only when strictly necessary and avoided eye contact with not only him but everyone around him. Knowing that Snape knew more about him then anyone else in the world, that he had felt everything that _he_ had ever felt, every insecurity, every time he had cried himself to sleep, every time he had wished to wake up as someone else or to never wake up at all. Those dark unreadable eyes forever watching him. Sometimes he would encounter Snape in the corridors where he would pause and look as though he wanted to say something but would carry on walking at the last moment. It sometimes tormented Harry to the brink, where he would toy with the idea of storming into Snape's office and demanding he tell him everything. But this was only a thought after all.

He lifted his hand that had began to throb, he had almost forgotten about it. The cut was not deep, the stinging a welcomed distraction. The red line on his palm running almost parallel with a fading scar from earlier that year. He laid back, the cold stone a pleasant contrast with his burning hand. He felt almost peaceful. Why could he not feel like this all this time. Then a thought crossed his mind. A dangerous thought he tried instantly to quell but kept creeping back inside his head. He brought his hand to his face and suddenly he understood. He understood how he could make all this pain go away, all this anger, all the anxiety, he could finally stop the numbness and feel again.

He was a man on a mission. He had to find something, anything, he was suddenly back in the Gryffindor dormitory his cloak lay forgotten back at the lake. His trunk lay open on his bed as he sifted frantically through its contents, he knew what he was looking for and he had to find it. His fingers fumbled upon a leather spine before he threw it over his shoulder to add to the already mounting pile of books and clothes, he dug deeper brushing soft leather as his hand closed around the pouch. Pulling it from the case he stuffed it hastily into his pocket, stuffing his belongings back into his trunk before pushing it back under his bed.

He paused for a moment to regain his breath, the afternoon sun had gone behind a cloud casting the dormitory into semi darkness. He had best get a move on if he was to get back through the castle before classes were over. He passed no one as he walked back through the castle, his pocket feeling unnaturally heavy as he quickly descended the staircase feeling like a criminal concealing a weapon which was going to be discovered at any moment.

A student emerged from a door to his left startling him, a filth year Slytherin by the looks of things a sickly pale boy with a sinister smirk that reminded Harry somewhat of Malfoy. He looked at Harry for a moment before crossing the stairs and disappearing down the hall. Harry stood there for a while feeling a little like a deer in the headlights, before he willed himself to keep walking, his feet carried him quickly back to the spot by the lake where his cloak still lay on the floor.

The weather was still warm out as he sat cross legged on his cloak the leather pouch laid out in front of him, he sat watching it for a while, and for a moment he played with the idea of throwing it into the lake. His potions knife was what lay inside, which he slid almost tenderly from its case, fingering the blade tentatively before he rolled up his sleeve. This was the ultimate act of weakness, he knew this. But he somehow knew it would make it all go away. He looked up at the castle, he knew he was hidden from view here, he was probably the only one that knew or came to this place, but he still could not help but check he was alone.

He took a deep breath; and with his heart pounding heavily and his palms sweating he pressed the blade to his forearm, gentle at first, his hand shaking a little. The skin remained unbroken but left behind a pleasant burning feeling he needed more of. He pressed harder, the knife slicing momentarily beneath the skin startling him for a moment, the cut was not deep but a thick drop of blood was brought to the surface.

He tilted his arm slightly, watching in fascination as it dripped down his arm. Without thinking it was joined by another, and then another, until his arm was a criss cross of red lines. He then did something he had not done in such a long time, he smiled, a real genuine smile.

The knot in his stomach loosened, and the tension in his chest lessoned all he could think about was feeling as his mind emptied, he felt warm, tired almost, as he leant back against the wall his arm stinging pleasantly. He closed his eyes the knife still gripped loosely in his hand and a steady trickle of blood flowing over his palm.

As Harry lay against the cold stone, peaceful for the first time in months, Snape was in his office pacing, a large glass of scotch in his hand. Potter had not turned up for dinner or Potions, a fact that had escaped McGonagall and had neither bothered nor worried his so called friends. What the potions master found more unnerving was the fact that _he _had noticed. Why did _he_ care where Potter was? How was it that he always knew where Potter was and who he was with when anyone else could only guess. Why was he the only one to have noticed that Potter was not at dinner. Why did he follow him? Watch him? Could he even go as far as to say _care_ for him?

After his accident during the final battle Snape had tried everything in his power to forgot everything he had learnt about the boy, but it had been anything but easy. The pensieve had refused to take the memories of another, plaguing his every waking hour since that day with Potter's thoughts and feelings. He had refused to accept what this meant not only because he did not understand it but because he did not want to understand. He did not know how he felt, it was all too confusing, he had felt unrelenting hatred and loathing for the boy for so many years and for everything to be thrown upside down and to be proved wrong on so many levels was conceivable.

To have learnt that Potter was not the spoilt little brat he believed him to be, to have experienced every lonely night he had spent at his aunt and uncles, to have felt the joy, the escape that Hogwarts had brought him, to feel the emptiness, the despair and the desperation, the engulfing self loathing and to then realise that the broken boy in front of him was an almost exact replica of himself.

Snape did not need a cloak to become invisible, he could avoid being seen if he wished. He needed some air, all this thinking was clouding his head, of course this had nothing to do with the half a bottle of scotch that had evaporated from the bottle. The last of the sun had just gone down behind the forest as Snape stepped out onto the lawn. It was a nice night for October, the sky was clear and an almost warm breeze was still in the air.

He stuck to the shadows as he walked down to the lake where he leaned against a large rock. He brushed his hair back from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was times like this when he missed Dumbledore, as frustrating as he could be, he would know what to do. He would not have abandoned Potter like this, he had doted on the boy. Perhaps he would not feel so much responsibility for him if someone else was there to look out for him.

Yes he missed that old fool more then he cared to admit. Perhaps he would stop by his portrait on the way back to the dungeons, he could do with a few wise words right now because god only knew he was not making any sense himself.

He stopped by the lake a few minutes longer, the merpeople were on top form tonight. Several dozen had surfaced at the far side and were singing in strange tones. It took him back to his childhood for a moment, the countless times he had come down here to escape. To escape the pressure, to get away from the taunting and the teasing, the raised fists and the sharp tongues. He'd often come to the boathouse, here he knew he could be alone, safe in his own company.

He was just thirteen the first time he had tried it, his father had beaten him within an inch of his life, told him he knew he was weak but that this was pure embarrassment. He had disgraced the family and if anyone ever found out he would make him wish he had never been born.

He lifted his sleeve hesitantly, exposing a litter of silver scars that glittered in the moonlight. He traced some of the deeper ones with his forefinger, even thirty years later he still remembered the associated memories he had tried so hard to forget.

He didn't dwell on it, he was older, wiser now and had never felt the need to resort to that again. He pushed his sleeve back down and fastened its many buttons before climbing to his feet. Perhaps he would visit his refuge at the boat house, if any of it remained, before he went back to the castle, because it now held more then just childhood memories. It was the place he had almost lost his life and had refrained from going back their after that night.

His feet crunched noisily on the shingle beach as he walked along the lake, as the boathouse came into view he felt a slight tightening in his chest which he could not explain. He had a love hate relationship for this place. The three stones walls, the only things still standing, cast dense shadows on the expanse of brick on its floor. He ascended the stairs noiselessly, warily or what he would feel when he got the shock of his life. A body lay in the far corner, skin deathly pale in the moonlight. Slumped against the stone wall his face was hidden in shadow, from his shape it was a male, Hogwarts uniform confirming a student. Before he could even think he had withdrawn his wand from his sleeve, and turned it on the figure. His breath caught in his throat.

The dark mop of hair, the thick black lashes brushing pale cheeks, those pale pink lips parted slightly as he screwed up his eyes at the light. They both remained frozen, Severus staring at the sight before him before a glint of silver caught his eye.

"Oh, Potter." he whispered, kneeling before the figure.

This was surreal, the whole situation was almost laughable.

Potter was shaking slightly as Snape approached, he took the knife from his still outstretched hand, placed it back in its leather pouch that lay forgotten beside his cloak and put in in his pocket. He looked at the array of cuts up and down his arm with sadness. He had seen this coming but had somehow hoped it would never come to this.

He needed him to stop this now before he went too far. He shook his shoulder gently pulling him from his stupor."Potter." he hissed. No response."Potter." Still nothing.

"HARRY!" He shouted, shaking him a little harder. His eyelashes fluttered for a moment before he was met with a pair of piercing green eyes. He stared unfocused for a while, his glasses lay forgotten somewhere. Realisation suddenly dawned on him and he freaked. Stumbling to his feet, he pulled down his sleeve in a pathetic attempt to hide what he knew Snape to have already seen.

"I-Its not what it looks like professor." he stuttered pathetically. Eyes darting frantically around.

"Potter this has got to stop. We have established by now that neither you nor I are stupid. You can not attempt to hide this from me. You might be fooling everyone else, but I am not a fool. I am not a monster Potter, I can see you are hurting, and as a Hogwarts teacher I cannot ignore that." Harry stood there a little bewildered, fighting between his fight or flight.

"I know we have never got along Potter, but you must believe I am genuine when I say I want to help you."

"You can not help me." Muttered Harry looking at the floor and missing Snape's concerned gaze. "No one can."

"How can anyone help you if you don not give them the chance. Your stubbornness to suffer alone will be your downfall!" Bit Snape, suddenly getting angry.

"Oh and I suppose you would know all about that wouldn't you!" Shouted Harry, his eyes snapping up to meet Snape's. He suddenly wished he had obeyed his instinct to run and was back in the safety of the Gryffindor dormitory, not standing outside in the middle of the night arguing with Snape about his feelings.

"I know more then you think Potter."

"YOU DON'T! You know nothing. You keep saying this, when you know nothing about it, and nothing about _me_. You stand there looking down your nose at me. Judging me. Welcoming the day that that I'll fuck everything up so you can all have a laugh at my expense!"

Snape had had enough, he reached out grasping Harry by his collar and slammed him to the wall.

"I know nothing do I? I know nothing?!"

"No." answered Harry weakly gasping to breath.

Then Snape did something he would later question why. He ripped up his own sleeve and stuck his forearm under Harry's nose.

A whispered lumos and a flood of light erupted in front of his face. The dark mark flashed threateningly for a moment, before his eyes focused and then Harry noticed.

Harry gasped, the rows and rows of thick scars covered ever possible inch of Snape's arm, some running up and under his robes ending god only knew where. He had never thought for a moment.

"I.. I" Harry began to stutter not knowing quite what to say.

Snape struggled to meet his gaze, he knew Harry would never tell anyone what he saw in fear of his exposing his own secret, but for someone to see him this exposed made him extremely uneasy. It had been over thirty years but it still shamed him.

"Don't bother Potter." Snape spat releasing Harry's robe as he turned to walk away. "It is you that does not understand, you know nothing of pain and suffering, you know nothing of guilt. "

Harry remembered the desperation in Snape's eyes that day and would remember it for the rest of his life. He suddenly did not know what to feel. He felt he should have felt humiliated, embarrassed, to be found in a such a vulnerable state by Snape of all people but he just felt confused. Upset almost, as though he had let someone down, someone that meant something to him. He sank to the ground in defeat and watched as Snape's figure disappear into the night.

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**Please review: I am struggling to find the enthusiasm to update regularly so a few reviews might just spur me on :)**


	10. Chapter 10 - My mind is made up

**Chapter 10: My mind is made up**

Harry awoke feeling strangely refreshed. He stretched lazily, his eyes still tight shut. He felt well rested, as though he had had a very good nights sleep, remembering nothing of the dreams that usually plagued his sleeping hours.

He brought out an arm from the warmth of his blanket and felt around blindly for his glasses, his fingers brushing the cold frames before he slid them up his nose. The clock by his bed read 06:35, the rest of the dormitory were still asleep. This was soon confirmed by Ron's loud snoring coming from behind the curtains to his left.

Swinging his legs out from under the blankets he suddenly realised he was still wearing yesterdays clothes, his brow furrowed in confusion as he sat there a few seconds thinking.

He shivered slightly, winter was definitely coming he thought as he tried effortlessly to remember why he had not changed into his pyjamas last night. Perhaps he had just been too tired he shrugged unperturbed. He did not feel so much like thinking right now. His mind felt strangely empty today, the usually dark cloud that hung over his mind had vanished, his thoughts feeling almost rational for a change as he climbed out of bed.

Grabbing his towel that had been drying at the foot of his bed he headed to the showers. He had taken to showering alone since the start of the year for several reasons really. Originally it had been to avoid being seen without his layers and layers of jumpers, believing he was fooling everyone by hiding his jutting hip bones and protruding ribs, but the underlying reason was of another kind.

It had started some time in his fifth year after his disastrous relationship with Cho Chang. It had been nice at first, having someone who genuinely cared for him and actually wanted to spend time with him. She had not been like the others, his name and his status had meant little to her.

But there was never any real attraction, not on Harry's part at least. It had all been so new so he had not been sure how he should feel, but he knew that something just did not feel right.

They had been going out for a few months, going on dates in Hogsmede where Cho would insist on going in sickeningly romantic coffee shops to hold hands over the table. She would then drop her hand beneath the table cloth to rest on his thigh, where she would glance at him from beneath her lashes for the reaction that never came.

But Cho had been persistent, and this had lead to the two of them sneaking out after curfew, Harry under his invisibility cloak to meet beside the lake. It had been a beautiful spring evening as they sat holding hands, looking out across the lake as the sun set , a slight breeze brushing their faces with the sweet smell of freshly cut grass. This should have been a perfect moment for any new couple, but Harry did not feel a thing. His hand sweating from the nerves, was more because of how uncomfortable he felt rather then the anticipation of the night ahead.

They had made small talk for a while, talking about exams and the weather, when Cho had laid her hand upon his leg in the all too familiar motion. Harry pretended not to notice as he looked across the lake, talking about the Thestrals that were currently circling the tree tops to their right. She was smiling sweetly at him as he spoke, her hand persistent in rubbing small circles up the inside of his thigh.

He felt nothing if a little awkward as her hand rubbed higher, watching him closely for a reaction as her fingers brushed him gently. He willed himself to get hard as he stopped talking, glancing at her well endowed chest for inspiration. She smiled shyly before placing his hand on her breast, squeezing it slightly in encouragement.

He lent in to kiss her, not knowing quite what to do. Cho had been his first girlfriend; fighting a dark lord for the last seven years had the downside of leaving little time for romance. Cho had brought a hand up behind Harry's neck, her other still busy, now trying to undo his jeans button.

His own arms lay limp at his sides as he attempted to keep up with Cho's frantic kissing. It was not that she was particularly bad it just felt strange, too much tongue he thought as she tried to coax Harry into taking control.

He knew what she wanted him to do but he could not bring himself to do it. He tried half heartedly to push her down onto the grass as she finally managed to work her way into his trousers her fingers slipping beneath his boxers.

He held his breath as Cho pulled away, confusion etched on her face. "Harry?"

Sitting up he fumbled with his trousers, hastily fastening them whilst refusing to look Cho in the eye.

"I..I..Sorry." he stuttered his face red. He stumbled to his feet and sprinted hastily up to the castle.

He did not know where he was running to and did not stop to look till he flopped down exhausted on the steps that lead up to the Owlry.

He sat there breathing heavily for a few minutes before sitting upright. What was wrong with him? Could he not be normal for one second of his life. Cho was beautiful, everyone said it. So why had he been unable to rise to the occasion.

Perhaps this was another way for Voldermort to destroy his life. Perhaps the bond he shared with Voldermort would prevent him from ever having feelings for another, destined to be alone forever.

He looked down at his watch, it was 11:30pm and way after curfew, and then he remembered he had left his invisibility cloak down by the lake.

Cursing he decided the embarrassment of facing Cho again was worse then being caught by a teacher. He kept to the shadows as he crept back into the castle, moving slowly and listening intently.

He kept his back to the wall as he peered around the doorway to the great staircase. The coast was clear as he snuck up the stairs, he had just reached the safety of the fat ladies portrait when a noise to his left startled him. Freezing he flattened himself back against the wall behind a suit of armour and listened.

He should have just gone into the common room, but no he was Harry Potter and curiosity always got the better of him as he inched around the corner. He briefly saw the outline of two figures against the adjacent wall, hidden by the shadows. Harry held his breath as a foot stepped out into a sliver of moonlight followed by a male body. A seventh year student judging by his age but from what house Harry was unsure as the boy wasn't wearing the usual house tie or crest. In fact Harry noticed he wasn't wearing very much at all. His shirt hung undone across his shoulders the moonlight shinning bright on his bare chest.

Harry unconsciously looked him up and down swallowing heavily. The tension and secrecy of the moment making him feel strange. He was snapped out of it by the boy speaking to the other figure in the shadows.

The boys hands were now fumbling with his belt as he spoke. "If you want it" he spoke eyes glancing down, a smirk on his face "You'd better come get it."

What Harry saw next made him forget to keep breathing. The second figure stepped out into the light, taller then the first, a predatory look on his face as he circled the smaller boy. "Take them off." he whispered his voice thick with clear arousal.

Harry's eyes were fixed on the boys hands that had made quick work of the belt and were now working on the button. He could not have looked away even if he had wanted to as the boy pushed his trousers and boxers down in one fluid motion. In the darkness of the corridor Harry could see the outline of the boys cock pressed flush against his stomach.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as the boy reached down to grasp his own cock shivering slightly as he groaned deep in his throat. The taller boy slapped his hand away angrily before slamming him against the wall, hand at his throat.

Harry was rock hard in seconds as the smaller boy continued to moan beneath the other, writhing against him pitifully begging for any kind of friction.

He lent forward, pining the smaller boys arms above his head to hiss in his ear, loud enough for Harry to hear in the silent corridor.

"Your pretty little cock belongs to me! And only me. Do you understand?"

He nodded dumbly, it was clear he would have agreed to do anything at this point.

"Say it!"

"It's your's, o-only yours". He begged incoherently, his head thrashing from side to side as he finally found a firm thigh to rub against.

Harry had finally remembered to breath and was now panting heavily watching the scene before him. His own cock now throbbing painfully against the zipper of his jeans as he bit his lip to keep quiet. If only he could have felt like this with the Cho. But this was something he would be forced to think about later.

"Good boy." He answered releasing his arms to run his fingers through the smaller boys hair, gripping it tightly before yanking his head back to expose his neck. He was still fully clothed as he brought his mouth to his neck dragging his tongue against his pulse point. He smiled as the boy beneath him closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open as he moaned wantonly.

He moved lower, circling a nipple before taking it in his mouth and pulling roughly with his teeth. The smaller boy hissed slightly in pain before placing his hands on the back of the others head. "Harder" he whimpered.

Harry began to sweat profusely, leaning against the wall for support. He was so hard it hurt, he could never remember being this aroused in his life.

But if he was aroused now it was nothing to how he felt when he got down on his knees and took the smaller boys cock in his mouth. The room became warmer and Harry thought he was about to pass out.

He leant forward, licking him teasingly from base to tip all the while keeping eye contact before finally sliding his lips over the head and sucking gently. The noises coming from the smaller boy were sinful and Harry could not believe they were not scared of being caught, although thinking about it that was probably the thrill.

He slid it to the back of his throat his hands reaching for the parts he could not reach. He was breathing deeply through his nose as he snuck a hand down to undo his trousers to retrieve his own throbbing erection.

He paused a second as he stroked himself several times moaning around the cock in his mouth, the vibrations causing the smaller boy to buck uncontrollably into his mouth.

His hands had come back down to rest upon the taller boys head, his fingers running unconsciously through is hair.

Harry was so close to coming here and now in his trousers but he did not dare move for fear of being caught. Well that was what he told himself anyway.

The taller boy had had enough, letting the other boys cock drop from his mouth unceremoniously he got to his feet ignoring the whimpers as he turned him around placing a firm hand on his back forcing the smaller boy to brace his hands upon the wall.

Harry's eyes nearly fell out of his head. His cock if possible hardening. Surely he was not going to do what he thought he was going …. HE WAS!

A loud groan from the taller boy as he pushed himself hard into the body before him masked the noises as Harry came hard in his trousers.

He leant back quietly against the cold stone wall as he got his breath back his ears ringing. It took him a minute to regain the use of his legs and a further minute to make the decision to go back to the common room.

He lay in his own bed a few minutes later a million and one thoughts running through his head, flashes of images and snippets of sounds. Cho long gone from his thoughts he fell into an uneasy sleep.

That night he dreamt of a man, tall and brooding with a broad muscled chest and a pair of strong arms. The next morning Harry awoke in extreme confusion. Did this mean he was gay? He had heard about boys in his year experimenting, rumours of encounters behind the broom shed, but that was all it had ever been, just an experiment. Ron had always been smitten with Hermione, Dean was now with Ginny, Neville with Luna.

It would explain his inability to respond to Cho's advances. He almost hoped he was gay as it would explain a lot of things. He knew he was different but surely one encounter was not decisive proof.

He tried to put it to the back of his mind as he got on with his day. But he began to look at men differently. As he sat in the Great Hall at breakfast he looked around for the faces he had seen the night before. The taller of the two he spotted at the Slytherin table, an attractive girl on either side of him both flirting atrociously, flipping their hair back and batting their eyelashes at him. He humoured them for a moment as he ate his breakfast before bringing his fork to his lips and glancing across at the Gryffindor table, Harry sat up straight for a moment hoping to catch a glimpse of the other boy, surely he was not a Gryffindor. But the Slytherin's eyes flickered over to Harry and he smirked. The same predatory smirk that Harry had seen that night.

There eyes met for the briefest of moments before Harry looked away. _Oh my god! He knew!" _

He must have known Harry had been watching him. He must have seen him.

Harry looked down at his plate, his face flaming. "You ok mate?" Ron had asked.

"Fine." Harry had replied cursing inwardly, looking anywhere but over at the Slytherin table. He had feel the boys eyes boring into the back of his head.

After that the Slytherin seemed to be everywhere, leaning against a wall as Harry went between classes. Sitting directly across from him as he ate his dinner in the Great Hall or watching him intently from across the room as he sat in the library with his friends.

The weeks progressed like this, it was driving Harry mad. The smouldering looks made him hot under the collar, and hot in other places too. His dream of a muscled body now had a face to match it and had became ever more frequent.

He was passing down the corridor on the way to Charms one morning having slept late and missed breakfast, when a group of Ravenclaw girls stopped him in his path, recognising one of them as Cho's friend he sighed inwardly, he had been wondering when this would happen.

He slowed his pace as he walked towards them, they had spread out blocking almost the entire corridor laughing as they watched him approach.

He came to a stop before them, the floor suddenly becoming extremely interesting.

"Cho told us what happened." said a small blonde girl laughing.

"Did she." replied Harry uninterestedly.

"So its true?" she continued. "You are gay?"

Harry's head snapped up. He was expecting something from these girls but not this.

"Gay?" Harry repeated now looking the girl in the eye. "Who told you that?"

"Why Cho of course." she answered smiling.

Typical thought Harry. Here he was, questioning his own sexuality when Cho had already taken it upon herself to decide for him. He would bet his firebolt that the whole school would hear Cho's speculations as the truth by that evening.

"Think what you like!" he snapped pushing past the girls and down the corridor.

He really could not believe her. She was clearly so full of her self that it had never crossed her mind that perhaps Harry had just not been that into her. That she just wasn't what he found attractive in a girl. Sighing he headed down the charms corridor and passed the classroom he should have been in 10 minutes ago, he had no intentions of going now. He took in little of his surroundings as he scaled the third floor and headed down the second, sitting down upon an empty staircase he put his head in his hands.

Who was he kidding. The more he thought about it the more it made sense. Of course Cho had never been his type and no girl ever would be. The way he had felt that night just watching those two boys, his entire body had been on fire.

Many would have called this his sexual awakening, the realisation that he had just never been in contact with the thing his body had wanted the most. He found this realisation easier to come to terms with then he had imagined. Yes he was different. But what was new there. This did not trouble him, he had gone through his entire life being different. If anything it had lifted a weight, perhaps destiny had something more in store for him then its proposed eternity of loneliness.

The noise of slight footsteps penetrated Harry's thoughts. He looked up somewhat tentatively expecting a teacher or a prefect perhaps ready to question his presence on the corridors whilst everyone else was in lessons. He took in a pair of uniformed trousers first which provided some relief, before a Slytherin jumper and matching tie. Harry's heart dropped into his stomach as he sat up straight looking into the eyes of the mysterious Slytherin.

"Is someone sat there?" he asked gesturing to the space beside Harry who had turned an interesting shade of red.

"No." Harry mumbled looking at his feet.

The step was narrow and Harry found himself shoulder to shoulder with the boy.

"Its Lee." came a voice a little too close to his ear sending a shiver down his spine.

"Harry." he replied still refusing to meet his eye.

"Yes Harry, I know exactly who you are."" said Lee turning to face him. " and I heard what those girls said back there."

"Oh you did." replied Harry trying to sound uninterested. Lee's leg had shifted slightly and now lay along Harry's, the heat unnaturally warm in the draft of the castle.

Harry felt his palms begin to sweat as he wiped them on his trousers.

"I know you saw me the other night Harry." whispered Lee the same tones from that night slipping into his voice as he slide a hand onto his leg. "Did you like what you saw?"

Harry's breath hitched. This was nothing like what it had been like with Cho. His entire leg was tingling as Lee's fingers rubbed gently at his knee. "I don't know." replied Harry not wholly untruthfully.

"Perhaps we should try and clear things up for you then." purred Lee, leaning close to Harry's ear and taking its lobe between his teeth. "Have you ever been with a man Harry?" Harry could not have replied even if he had wanted to. He swallowed heavily as his own fingers twitched.

"Have you ever felt another mans hands all over your body? Touching ever inch of your skin. Oh..Harry, the things I could make you feel." Lee had began to pant heavily as he licked the shell of his ear, he was obviously aroused as he trailed his tongue down Harry's neck inhaling deeply.

Harry was trembling, his skin was tingling, it was clear Harry's speculations about the boys voyeuristic activities that night were true, as the feeling of getting caught only made him more excited.

He was not sure what he should do, but he knew he did not want him to stop. The hand at his knee had inched itself higher, and unlike with Cho he had no need to will himself to get hard.

Lee smiled against Harry's neck as he reached his goal, exhaling slightly and sending a shiver from Harry's head down to his toes. "Mmm… you like this Harry. You like this a lot."

Harry had begun to whimper as Lee rubbed him through his trousers. "Have you ever felt another man's cock in your hand Harry? Twitching and begging to be touched.".

The things Lee was saying were beginning to drive him mad as a door creaked loudly to their left making them both jump.

Lee was up in a moment, leaving Harry sprawled across the step, face flushed and breathing heavily. Lee looked him up and down smiling before grabbing his hand and pulling him into a nearby alcove. The alcove was in shadow as he pulled Harry backwards, flush to his chest. One hand covered his mouth from behind to keep him quiet the other wrapped tight around his waist, his fingers splayed across his stomach.

"Shhh" came Lee's voice from Harry's left as he slipped Harry's shirt from his trousers. He could feel Lee's erection digging into the base of his back as he rubbed against him. He could not believe this was happening.

Voices could now be heard coming down the corridor as Lee slipped his hand beneath Harry's waistband. Harry groaned low in his throat as a firm hand gripped his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. His head fell back against his shoulder as Lee's mouth returned to his ear, whispering things that if possible made him even harder. He had pulled Harry closer and was rutting feverishly against his behind, the hand that had been over Harry's mouth had drifted under his shirt to pinch a hardening nipple while his other had found its way beneath his boxers to resume its ministrations.

Lee bit down on Harry's neck as he fisted him roughly. Harry resumed his whimpering causing Lee to bring his hand back up to Harry's mouth as the voices got louder. Harry's legs felt weak as Lee showed no signs of letting up his hand sliding further between Harry's legs as his lips mouthed breathlessly at his neck. Harry pressed backwards against Lee keening at the friction it caused. Sweat had begun to drip from his brow as he gripped helplessly at Lee's thighs, his nails digging into the soft flesh that was sure to leave marks.

"Am I the first one to touch you like this." Panted Lee stilling his hand on Harry's throbbing cock to rub his thumb across the slit.

In any other situation Harry would have been embarrassed to admit this, but having someone's hand on ones cock tended to bring the honesty out in anymore.

Harry opened his mouth letting out a hiss that sounded suspiciously like parseltongue before replying with a breathless "Yes."

"Shh" Lee hissed in response as the owner of the voices came around the corner. It was Professor McGonagall with one of the Gryffindor Prefects talking hurriedly about a break out of boils in one of the Charm classrooms which apparently had Weasley's Wizard Wheezes written all over it.

Both Harry and Lee held their breath as the two passed, listening intently as they ascended the stairs, Harry could hear his heart beating heavily in his ears and the hand still gripping his cock felt extraordinarily warm.

As the last remnants of conversation drifted down the stairs Lee moved. Pulling his hand swiftly from Harrys trousers he spun the boy around before slamming him against the wall. Harrys head swam for a moment as his head collided with the hard stone before a pair of equally hard lips latched onto his. This was definitely unlike anything he had felt with Cho.

The kiss was wet but the force behind it knocked Harry's breath from him, he pinned Harry's hands above his head as he bit down hard on his lip sending a jolt of electricity to his rapidly hardening cock. He swiped his tongue over Harry's bottom lip, coaxing Harry to open them for him. Then Lee's tongue was in Harry s mouth and he lost all ability to think. Lee definitely knew what he was doing, the way his lips moved over Harry's as his tongue traced every inch of his mouth.

He moved his lips from Harry's to take a step back, his pupils dilated as he took in the delectable sight of a disheveled Harry Potter. His shirt un tucked and rumpled, his lips wet and bruised, his hair wild and untameable and his cock straining pitifully against his trousers.

Harry let his hands drop back to his sides as he looked at Lee from beneath long black lashes panting slightly and looking a little embarrassed at his own neediness. Lee was smiling his predatory smile as he looked Harry up and down. "Take off you're shirt Harry." Purred Lee his voice hoarser then he anticipated.

Harry had been caught up in the moment and the sudden sound of Lee's voice threw him off guard as he hesitated slightly. His ragged breath sounded louder then it should as Lee continued to wait, tracing his forefinger lazily across his own lip.

"I knew you would taste good." smiled Lee slipping his finger between his parted lips. "I could kiss your lips all day."

Harry blushed slightly never taking his eyes from Lee's lips as he stepped closer, putting his finger wet from his own mouth against Harry's lips, his warm breath sensitive against its tip. He pushed it between Harry's parted lips groaning at the sight. "You look sinful like that Harry, that mouth of yours was made for something in it."

Harry swallowed heavily, unconsciously sucking on the finger in his mouth, it was Lee's turn to whimper as he closed his eyes slightly a look of pure pleasure on his face. Harry brought up his hands, shaking slightly and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Lee's eyes snapped open to watch as bit by bit he exposed his well muscled chest.

He was taking to long, Lee was apparently not a patient man. Pulling his finger roughly from Harry's mouth he proceeded to rip the remainder of the buttons clean off. Harry started for a minute a little shocked at Lee's abrupt behaviour before he was pressed flush against his body and an eager mouth was back on his neck.

He wasted no time now. His mouth and tongue desperately seeking hot flesh, his throat was nipped and kissed before wet lips enclosed a nipple. His cock was now painfully hard as an answering erection pressed firmly against him. Harry moaned low in his throat as Lee aligned their erections before grinding hard against him. He lifted one of Harry's legs around his waist before biting down hard on the nipple between his teeth. Harry's head flew back, and for the second time that day found it colliding with the stone wall. He had started mumbling incoherently now, his eyes shut tight as Lee worked his magic.

Harry only opened his eyes when Lee abruptly let go of Harry's leg and dropped to his knees before him, his eyes glittering with mirth as the realization of what he was about to do dawned on Harry's face. Harry began to stutter as Lee inched his hand up Harry's thigh rubbing in small circles as he reached his belt. Harry's breath hitched as Lee looked up at him from the floor. "Has anyone every sucked your cock before Harry?" asked Lee innocently, unfastening his belt as he spoke.

Harry shook his head slightly watching with almost horrified fascination as Lee's hands made short work of his belt and then his trousers. Lee was smirking now as he lent forward, taking Harry's zip between his teeth and pulling it down in one swift movement. Harry gasped at the sensation of having his mouth so close to where he wanted it most and from the relief of some pressure on his aching cock.

The thought of Lee taking him in his mouth both scared and excited him at once. He did not know why Lee would want to do that to him, surely it could not be pleasant for him could it.

Harry was soon to find out, when Lee lent forward to press his open lips against Harry's boxer clad erection, the thin cotton leaving little boundary between Lee's wet lips and Harry's throbbing organ.

Harry's fingers twitched at his sides as he refrained from crying out, whimpering slightly as lee unfastened a button on his boxers and eased him out. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Lee teased him first, taking him in his hand in slow languid strokes before stroking his length with one steady finger. Harry had begun to pant, his face flushed with arousal as he arched into his touch. Lee grasped him firmly as he pulsed beneath his palm. Lee knew he would not last long as he took in Harry's clenched fists and frequently bobbing adams apple.

Lee let him go, his cock now laying flush against his own stomach. "You might want to watch this Harry." whispered Lee as he deep throated Harry from root to tip. Harry let out a guttural moan from deep in his throat. The fact they where in the corridor completely gone from Harry's mind.

"_Oh my god, oh my god."_ Chanted Harry under his breath as his eyes rolled into his head. His hands had drifted unconsciously to Lee's hair as he chanced a look down. He watched, captivated as Lee licked hungrily at his cock before it disappeared entirely down his throat. Glancing up from between Harry's legs he smiling at Harry's clouded gaze. Siting back on his heels he let Harry's cock slide from his lips with an obscene sound. "Mmmm.. you taste so good." Purred Lee reaching down to palm himself through his trousers . "It's making me hard Harry."

Harry swallowed heavily, unable to form any coherent speech. His heart still beating loudly in his ears and his face flushed. "Would you like to watch me touch myself Harry?" asked Lee his pupils dilated. Harry nodded dumbly his eyes fixed on Lee's hand that had begun to undo his button. Taking himself out of his trousers he wrapped a fist around himself, he was already achingly hard and weeping at the head.

Harry watched as Lee bit his bottom lip, his hair mussed from Harry's frantic hands. Never had Harry seen a more erotic sight. Bringing his free hand up the inside of Harry' leg, Lee sucked Harry back into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside. The sight of Lee, his mouth filled by Harry's cock and his hand fisting his own cock now at a furious pace. They both would not last long.

It took Lee just five more pumps of his hand to push him over the edge. Spilling over his hand he moaned loudly around Harry's cock the vibrations causing Harry to buck frantically into Lee's mouth. He was close and as he felt the pressure building he tried to pull loose from Lee's mouth. But Lee was intent on keeping him there and Harry felt himself coming hard down Lee's throat drawing blood from his lip as he refrained from making too much noise.

Wiping his hand on the inside of his boxers Lee tucked himself back in and stood up, fastening his trousers.

Harry lay limp against the wall his chest heaving recovering from the best orgasm of his life. Lee smiled at him before planting a kiss on his open mouth. The taste of himself on Lee's lips made his now limp cock twitch slightly as Lee stepped away. "See you around then Harry yeah?" Lee stepped out of the alcove as he waited for an answer, leaving Harry in the shadows. "Sure." replied Harry a little dazed.

This had been Harry's first experience with a man and it was safe to say from his reaction, it had not been his last. Lee and Harry had a casual arrangement after that day, a year of quick fumbles in broom cupboards or in dark alcoves progressed before Lee left Hogwarts. They had never gone all the way, although Harry had been happy to express his sexuality he still believed it to be something best saved for someone a little more special.

Naturally the whole school had found out about Harry's _arrangement _although how much of this was down to Cho and how much down to Lee Harry didn't know. The news had shocked the wizarding world at first but was soon forgotten, homosexuality in the wizarding world was common place and more sociably acceptable then in the muggle world. It was soon forgotten though, especially with news of the up coming war.

There had however been the odd few that had found it hard to accept Harry for what he was. Seamus especially, which was why Harry was up at 6am showering alone. He stepped out of his clothes still in a post sleep haze pushing them into a pile with his foot. The shower turned itself on as he pulled back the curtain adjusting its temperature without being prompted. Stepping under the jet of water he reached for the soap, washin himself blindly. A sudden pain jolted up his left arm as the cuts reopened in the water emitting the soap to enter. Hissing he turned off the water and crossed to were he had left his glasses his arm now throbbing painfully. The room swam into focus his arm unsightly in the bright morning night.

It all came flooding back as he realised why he had fallen asleep in his clothes. Snape's face swam before his, the look in his eyes as he had shoved his scar ridden arm before his eyes. Harry looked down at his own arm, a mass of pink flesh pounding in time with his heartbeat. Snape needed to stop interfering in things that were not his business, Harry would show him he did not need him. He didn't need anyone now, he knew how he would cope with this, he would get through it his own way.


End file.
